


absolution

by jouska



Category: Fate/Zero, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Coming In Pants, Crest Worms, Desperation, Developing Relationship, Dirty Talk, Dubious Morality, Eventual Romance, Grinding, Kotomine Kirei Is His Own Warning, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Porn With Plot, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Self-Reflection, Sexual Fantasy, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2019-10-15 11:32:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 38,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17527943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jouska/pseuds/jouska
Summary: Kotomine Kirei brings Matou Kariya back to Fuyuki Church, instead of bringing him to the Matou estate after the battle at Mion river. Tempted by the words of a golden Archer, he keeps him close, wanting to know more about the disgraced former Matou heir for himself.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a piece of fanart I found a while back and I've been feverishly daydreaming about a way to make domestic Kirei/Kariya happen and by god, I will make it happen even if it kills me
> 
> (the worms are gay in this, as an aside, bc fuck straight worms i'll fight you on that, nasu)

The bitter cold of the night bites into Matou Kariya’s skin through his tracksuit. His right eye opens, roused from his pain-riddled slumber— _if you could call it that, the worms would never allow him a true peaceful night’s sleep—_ not only by that, but by something else; a prickling sensation along his nerves. If it had happened a year prior, he wouldn’t have paid it any mind.

Magecraft had nothing to do with him at that point—he’d left that world, it didn’t matter if he felt a spike of magical energy here or there. But now, now that he was in this war, in the heart of Fuyuki, he couldn’t ignore it; it was no longer a minor spark, but now a powerful surge, his senses to it augmented by his boosted magic circuits.

_Mion river,_ he thinks to himself sluggishly, picking out each energy signature as they appear. _Caster’s there… ah, and Saber and Rider. Lancer, too. And…_

Kariya seizes up, clawing his way to a sitting position. He could feel it—he’d have to be more than half-dead not to, with that overwhelming magical energy.

_Archer’s there,_ he thinks, mind already in a haze as he struggles to his feet. _Which means…_

“Berserker,” Kariya says, already limping his way out of the alleyway. Just calling to him was a strain, but he doesn’t care; Tokiomi is out in the open, finally, _finally,_ and Kariya isn’t about to let this opportunity slip away. “Mion river.”

Kariya can feel Berserker stirring, roiling and making his way to the river ahead of him in spirit form. That’s just as well. As long as Kariya keeps a good enough hold on him, he doesn’t have to worry—Berserker can tear Archer limb from limb this time, and Kariya can finally get a goddamned answer out of Tokiomi.

The mental image of Kariya bringing that pompous bastard to his knees is a satisfying one, even if it causes the worms inside him to bring his blood to an intense, uncomfortable boil.

 

 

“Consider this an act of mercy, Kariya.”

The insects are thinning out. Blood seeps from the veins in his face, dripping down his chin and hitting the ground, mingling with the pools of blood already there. Matou Kariya tried mustering up more power, but between this and maintaining Berserker, he was torn. He could call off Berserker, but—no, no, he would lose, he wouldn’t, not against Tohsaka, of all _creatures—!_

“ _Intensive Einascherung._ ”

The next few moments are a special kind of hell, and the pain wrought from it is just edging beyond the consistent, endless pain from the worms. Kariya screams, clawing at his face, his stomach turning and clenching at the sound of his own flesh boiling. He screams his throat raw at Tokiomi, that he would kill him, kill Zouken, kill, kill, _kill._ He stumbles, hitting something. The railing. His weight is too much, he’s leaning over it too heavily, he can’t—

Kariya feels an extra pair of eyes on him, just for a moment, as the ground goes out from under him. He blacks out before he even hits the pavement below.

He can’t recall when, or how, or _who,_ but Kariya slides briefly, partially into consciousness after the fire goes out. Someone pulling on his hair, lifting his face up. He whimpers, giving a full-body twitch— _it feels good, please, more, more,_ the worms writhe inside him even now, bringing his blood back to that discomforting heat even in his state of semi-awareness.

His head is set down, not slammed. It can’t be Tokiomi. No, he’s too full of himself to think a job unfinished, too absorbed in his own bravado that Kariya’s fate is likely already an afterthought to him. As is, he’s not conscious enough to get angry at that—at most, he’s confused. Scared that some poor soul from the city has found him like this. He feels the compulsory need to hide, to apologize, but all he can manage is another whimper.

Kariya can feel himself being turned onto his back. He doesn’t have enough strength to open his eye, to see who it is. He wonders if it’s another wayward like him, crawling the streets, living day to day, never expecting to see tomorrow. If they’re trying to pick his pockets, they’re out of luck; Kariya has nothing on him, not a wallet, not even pocket change. He wonders if he’ll be killed for that.

There’s pressure against his stomach now, sudden. Whoever is there, they’re pressing their palm against him now. Kariya can feel a prickling, searing sensation ebbing from that hand, spreading through him. It’s almost soothing. Healing magecraft… a mage? It couldn’t be one of the other Masters, could it?

Those questions are quickly forgotten. That soothing feeling turns to agony, whipping the worms into a frenzy. Fresh meat for them to devour, mending flesh for them to chew on, it’s nearly worse than being burned alive. Flesh being mended, only to be gnawed away as fast as it regenerates, reopening wounds before they even finish closing. Kariya screams, tossing his head, hands grappling for purchase, only to find none.

“P—Plea—” he wails, not even knowing the words that bubble past his lips like blood, unbidden. “Nngh—Mm— _aahhh!_ ”

He swears he can feel those fingers curling in against his sweater before they smooth out again. Kariya wonders what it means. Wonders if this is an act of God. Maybe it’s less God, and more fate—he can’t die here, he knows that well. If he dies now, Sakura will…

It’s her eyes, those sad, dead eyes that he sees before he slips back into unconsciousness.

 

* * *

 

Kotomine Kirei keeps his hand on Kariya’s stomach for a few moments more after he stops thrashing, his voice finally giving out. Those crest worms of his seemed to enjoy that impromptu forced healing as much as he did, tearing open the mended flesh on his burns all over again, even as Kirei healed them over. Again and again. He isn’t sure how long he spent just watching it happen, himself.

_He’s breathing, at least,_ Kirei thinks to himself. _For all that’s worth. He would’ve been better off if I’d left him to die._

But he couldn’t, not after watching him come that close to killing himself in that fight against his master. Kirei glances upward, towards the railing that Kariya had tumbled over. Is Tokiomi still up there? Would he come to check, to see if Kariya was just a splatter of blood and grime on the pavement? Would he see that his student was healing him, the very man he’d promised to kill? What would he think, then?

Kirei can feel his heart skip a beat. He shakes his head, looking back down at Kariya. What to do, now? Bring him back to the Matou house, surely? Or bring him back to the church? The former seemed the more logical of the two options. He had nothing more to do with Matou Kariya after this. Any prolonged contact with him while he was still working under Tohsaka was dangerous.

_Strange, then,_ he thinks. Kirei loops his arms around Kariya’s waist, lifting him easily and slinging his prone body over his shoulder. _That the latter is so tempting._

Under his arm, Kirei can feel Kariya tense, wheezing out a pained gasp. A shudder wracks Kirei’s frame at the sound.

“ _A soul naturally seeks pleasure, whether consciously or not,”_ Archer’s words once again taunted him, teased him, urged him to look at the bigger picture. Though he wasn’t there, he could feel him, as if the King of Heroes was pressed against Kirei’s back, lips pressed to the shell of his ear. _“He was the only one you had Assassin investigate thoroughly enough so that you could understand those circumstances… all due to your unconscious interest in him.”_

Just how long has he been allowing himself to be tempted by him, Kirei wonders. _How long has it been since that last mattered to him._

Kirei shakes his head again, falling into step. He could take Kariya back to the Matou house, and leave it at that. Let the Matou family deal with him. But…

Part of him didn’t want to leave things at that. He wanted to know more about this miserable man, hear things that he could only learn from the man himself. Kariya may not cooperate—but that, in itself, is exciting in its own way.

Excitement… a foreign concept to him, up until now. Perhaps for unjust reasons. But his curiosity outweighs his need to force himself into an acceptable, pure mold, one that his father would want him to be in—

_Father,_ Kirei realizes. _I can’t let him see Kariya._ The panicked thoughts of a child bringing home a stray animal, perhaps. No—such things were beyond Kirei. If Risei saw that he was harboring one of the other Masters, he would ask questions, questions that Kirei is presently unable to answer.

He doesn’t know _why_ he’d rather bring this man back to the church with him, rather than take him to his home. Selfishness? Curiosity? Is it the sickening fascination that one has with watching something lesser die, just to affirm their own mortality?

“… no,” Kirei says aloud, though he knows Kariya can’t hear him. “He needs further healing.”

Yes. That makes more sense, doesn’t it? He doesn’t know if his family will heal him upon his return—Kariya had a strained relationship with the Matou family, if he was dropped at their doorstep, then… as tantalizing as it would be to let them torture this poor man further…

_You would rather see it yourself,_ Archer’s voice, the voice that he’s unknowingly branded into his mind’s ear crooned, _You want a front-row seat to his day-to-day suffering. It’s too good of an opportunity to pass up._

Indeed. If Matou Kariya were to die now… that would be so _boring._ A tragic end to be sure, but not nearly as tragic as it _could_ be. Why such a thing excites Kirei… it would have eluded him once. But he thinks, gradually, the answer he seeks is cresting the horizon, just barely coming within his line of sight. If he were to let this man go, the answer would be out of his reach for god knows how long.

Kirei purses his lips, wetting them with his tongue. Which side will win out, in the end? He wants to see it for himself—the answer that lies beyond him. Beyond whatever comes of bringing this man to the church, hiding him away, keeping him alive long enough to learn the _why,_ the _how,_ and the _who._ He only hopes his interest is not truly unfounded.

Instead of heading in the direction of the Matou house, then, Kirei turns on his heel and heads towards Fuyuki church.

With all the chaos still surrounding Caster’s monster, he slips away with relative ease. Any rabble he passes on the way easily overlooks him, in favor of the madness happening by the river. There’s a moment he feels conflicted; as a member of the church, allied with the Mage’s Association, he should be helping to cover this incident up.

But he doesn’t care. Not right now. Perhaps not ever, now that he thinks on it—if he had, it was for the sake of his father. His holy, pious, pure bastard of a father. Kirei scowls, tightening his hold around Kariya. Not this time—no, he would not allow his father’s worries cloud over his own desires.

His _desires._ He knows, for sure now, that these desires are his own. Not false ones, forced upon him by an outside party. Gilgamesh had only pointed it out—and thinking on it, Kirei knew it to be true. He had watched Kariya, observed him through Assassin’s eyes and ears. Watched him save Tohsaka’s daughter, listened to him reassure Tohsaka’s wife, far beyond what a mere friend would do.

_Infatuated with a married woman,_ Kirei’s eyes flicked over to Kariya’s face. _Loving her, knowing that she won’t love him back._ Kirei wasn’t certain what love felt like, even now. He knew of grief—of course he did, after Claudia. But love… such a thing still escaped him.

Just recalling her name while his wounds were still so fresh made Kirei feel uneasy. He put her face out of his mind, though he knew it to be a fruitless endeavor.

As he walks up the road leading to the church, he feels Kariya twitch against him. He isn’t awake yet, but he is still alive. He’s still in poor shape, he knows that to be true—he will need another bout of healing once they’re in his study.

“You’re a strange man,” Kirei finds himself saying out loud. There’s no one else on the road, no one besides the two of them, and Kariya likely can’t even hear him. That’s fine. “Sacrificing so much for a family that doesn’t love you as much as you love them.”

Kariya groans softly. It’s an involuntary sound. Kirei continues.

“You’re firm in your resolve. But.”

Kirei draws near the church. He knows he shouldn’t go in through the front entrance with Kariya slung over his shoulder like this. He breaks from the path, heading for the back.

“It means nothing. The people you are fighting for do not appreciate you.”

He twists the knob of the back door, poking his head in before entering fully. Risei must be in his own study, struggling to keep up with the Mage’s Association and their near-constant demands. Kirei holds his breath, shutting the door behind him softly and quietly making his way down the hall.

_But you don’t seem to care,_ Kirei thinks, brows furrowed. _You don’t…_

Kirei opens the door to his study as softly as he can, shutting it behind him just as softly. After a moment of consideration, he locks it as well.

The room is empty. Archer is still out by the river, it seems. He lets out a sigh, keeping his footsteps light as he brings Kariya over to the couch. Taking a knee, Kirei bumps Kariya off of his shoulder and lays him along the cushions on his back. Kirei can feel his own features going slack, lips parting as he stares down at him.

Kariya’s face is marred with those burns, still. He wonders if they would only worsen if he attempted to heal him again. _I shouldn’t attempt it now,_ Kirei thinks. _Not while father is still here._

Kirei lets out a sigh and sinks into his usual armchair next to the couch, tipping his head back and closing his eyes. His heart is still racing, even as he rests. He isn’t sure how much time passes as he sits there, listening to his own heartbeat, listening to Kariya’s shaky breathing. There’s a quiet murmur below, but Kirei can’t bring himself to care.

_Father must be talking with someone,_ Kirei’s thoughts drift, aimless, a blessed silence he rarely finds himself afforded. He drifts, half-awake and half-asleep, letting his mind wander. Typically, his thoughts would stay quiet, blank; but thanks to Archer and his insistent urging to let go, to let himself just _feel_ and _think_ without hampering himself with the ideals forced upon him.

_Let go. Feel._ Kirei breathes in deeply.

He imagines Kariya waking from his troubled sleep, looking upon Kirei’s sleeping form. Kariya stands before him, clutching that useless arm of his, staring down at him.

What would his expression be? Confusion, relief, fear? Or something else, some formless emotion that Kirei can’t feel, can’t comprehend? Kirei imagines himself waking, meeting Kariya’s one working eye. He reaches out, touching the back of Kariya’s right hand. Slowly, he slides his palm into his, grasping Kariya’s hand firmly and pulling him closer.

Kariya flinches, lips parting, but he doesn’t move to flee, nor to push Kirei away. There it is, that confusion, that slight hint of trepidation, but more than that. The curiosity, the need to understand—

A gunshot rang out. Kirei sat up straight in his armchair, eyes snapping open, nostrils flaring with the sudden, terse breath that came to him. His head whips toward Kariya, feeling a hint of relief that he was still out like a light. He wants to stop and reflect on just what in the _hell_ his mind was just conjuring up, but now doesn’t seem to be the time, if someone’s firing off weapons in the church.

_Was that real,_ he wonders, blinking the film from his eyes, trying to regain his senses. _Or was I imagining that, as well? This is a neutral zone, the other Masters are not permitted to…_

He recalls the last time one of the other Masters attempted to have a familiar monitor the church. Not just anyone— _Emiya Kiritsugu._ Would he have dared to do something that bold, storming the neutral zone just to get at him?

The idea sends a pulse of heat through his veins. It’s unlikely, but just imagining it, adding _that_ to everything else he’s been doing this evening… tonight may very well end up being the most indulgent that Kirei’s allowed himself to be, period.

Kirei heads for the door, but then he pauses, glancing back at Kariya. It’s a shame that Assassin is gone—he would feel more at ease, if he had someone to stay and look after him while he’s out. For the moment, he just has to be quick about checking for intruders and hope that Kariya won’t wake up while he’s gone.

 

* * *

 

A pulsating pain in his stomach rouses Kariya. That pain spreads from his stomach upward, to his abdomen, his chest, his neck, and his face—ah, that makes sense. Now that he’s awake, the worms are, too. But he can tell, gradually, that he’s not chained up in the worm room, or face-down in an alleyway. No, he’s lying on something _soft_ for a change.

Letting out a low groan, Kariya opens his eye. His surroundings are blurry, but he can at least tell that he’s indoors— _somewhere,_ he’s not sure on the location. He blinks, clearing his vision and clenching his teeth through the pain. Huffing through his nose, he turns his head, trying to get a better look at the rest of the room. There’s a table to his right, and two armchairs at each end of it.

Across the room is a desk. Kariya can’t tell what’s on it, his vision still foggy. It doesn’t help that the room is so dimly lit.

_Where the hell am I,_ he shifts slightly on the couch, and immediately regrets it, a spike of pain shooting up his spine and whipping the worms into another frenzy. He shouldn’t move—can’t, really, in his condition. _This isn’t the Matou manor. No one there would set me up on a_ couch, _let alone one this nice._

_All right, don’t think about the where, figure that out later,_ Kariya shuts his eye again, trying to focus. _Focus on the how. What happened?_

He remembers Tokiomi casting a spell that set him on fire. Not exactly the most pleasant of memories, but a start. What happened after that… he fell from the roof, and… blacked out.

“God damn it,” Kariya bites out, wishing he could use his left arm to slap his hand over his face. “Kariya, you useless idiot, think _harder,_ the worms haven’t eaten your _whole_ brain yet.”

Just most of it. Those brain cells he lost after passing out probably could’ve helped him, too. Damn it.

_Didn’t someone find me?_ He probes, trying to pick out what he can from what little he recalls. _Someone pulled my hair, turned me over, and… did something. It hurt… but… I felt…_

His flesh was being healed, wasn’t it? Someone, probably a mage, found him and healed his burns. Or, at least tried to. The worms would’ve noticed and started eating away at the new flesh, impeding any sort of progress.

_Whoever tried healing me must have been confused and brought me back to… wherever the hell this is,_ Kariya struggled to lift his right hand from where it dangled off the couch, feeling the worms wriggle under his skin at the slight movement. _That’s probably what happened._

There’s a flash of magical energy nearby, so strong that Kariya can feel it rattle his bones and excite the worms in him. He can hear footsteps through the walls—though made of stone, noise seems to carry fairly well in this place. Footsteps, the sound of something being dragged… and then silence for a while. Kariya swallows the excess saliva in his mouth, straining to hear any other signs of life.

_Shit. What if I got picked up by some lunatic?_ Kariya thinks. _I’ll have to call Berserker or fight them off myself. With the state I’m in now… it’ll kill me for sure. And then… and then Sakura will—_

The doorknob turns. Kariya lets out a breath, his only working eye staring wide at the door.

A tall, dark haired man walks in, his eyes devoid of life. His cheeks are wet, redness rimmed along the tan skin of his cheeks. His right hand is twitching, as if discomforted. A rosary dangles around his neck—someone from the church.

_The Overseer, then? I thought he’d look older…_ Kariya feels the weight ease a little from his chest. Not completely, but partially. It was common knowledge that the Church and the Tohsaka family have a long history with one another, so he can’t help but feel suspicious. _But… why did he… and why does he look like he’s been…_

The man turns his eyes toward Kariya. His lips part on a sudden, quiet breath, as if he wasn’t expecting him to be awake so soon. He’s quick to shut the door behind him, but he doesn’t move otherwise, just standing there staring at him. Like his being awake has thrown off everything he had been planning on saying.

“I…” he says, his voice deep and rich, like the ringing of the very bells of the church. “Thought you would still be unconscious for some time, Matou Kariya.” He says it slowly, as if he’s still affirming this fact to himself.

“How do you—” Kariya almost asks, just on impulse. He stops himself, however, realizing how ridiculous that question would be. He continues, not without struggling for breath. “No, you’re… the Overseer of the Grail War… right?”

The man pauses before speaking again. “Kotomine Kirei.”

It isn’t an answer to his question, but Kariya finds himself too exhausted and strung-out to press, at least not right now. The man calling himself Kirei seems a bit out of it, himself—at least they’re on the same page in _that_ regard. “Where are we? This place, it’s…”

“Fuyuki church,” Kirei says simply, still frozen in place by the door. “I brought you here after finding you collapsed in a back alley.”

Kariya blinked his one eye, feeling his brows pinch. “But why? Masters are… they’re supposed to get hurt and killed, it’s a _war,_ after all… why would you…”

“I…” Kirei says, looking out of sorts, his hands clenching and releasing rhythmically. He takes another long pause, eyes sliding away from him. Kariya watches his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows.

“You were in need of healing,” Kirei finally says, still not meeting Kariya’s eye. It seems breaking eye contact with him brings back his ability to walk, because he’s quick to move over to his desk now that he’s not looking at him. “And I healed you. That’s all.”

He states it so simply, it brooks no argument. But Kariya can’t help but feel odd. After the long year of constant backlash and torture from Zouken, a genuine act of kindness seemed beyond him, seemed like something that wouldn’t be afforded to him as long as this war was going on.

Now that it’s happened, that someone’s actually paid him enough mind to actually _help_ him… Kariya doesn’t know what to think. Especially considering this man more than likely has _some_ connection to the Tohsaka family, if the rumors about the Tohsaka and the Holy Church are true. Turning his head away from Kirei, Kariya lets out a pained sigh.

“Well, I…” Kariya struggles with his words. He has half a mind to tell this man that it’s pointless, that it’s only a matter of time before the worms finally take their toll on him. But this is the first kind thing that anyone’s done for him in over a year; though he’s riddled with vermin and pain, Kariya still at least remembers his manners.

Softly, he says, “… thank you.”

 

* * *

 

Kirei freezes for a split second. Slowly, his gaze moves from the papers he’d been (somewhat mindlessly) sorting through, letting it wander back over to the disheveled former Matou heir. To his relief, Kariya was no longer looking at him, his head turned to look up towards the ceiling.

“It’s been a while since anyone’s done something like this for me,” Kariya continues, his tone firm. “And I didn’t want to just… overlook that. So really and truly, thank you. But I’m not brain-dead yet. You don’t have any reason to save any of the Masters unless they ask for sanctuary—which I haven’t. Whatever you want me for, you can just f—”

Standing abruptly, Kirei sends his chair clattering against the wall. Kariya stops, his head whipping around to look at him again—followed by a pained groan, the lesions on his face bulging and squirming.

But then something _odd_ happens. Kirei had expected him to writhe in agony, yes, from what little he’d gathered about him. However, that isn’t the extent of what happens to Matou Kariya.

His eye glazes over, splashes of color lighting up his sickly complexion. The way Kariya is looking at him now—it isn’t suspicion or relief, or even fear. In that eye of his, Kirei sees… hunger. Though Kirei knows himself to be a fundamentally passionless man, even he can recognize _that_ kind of hunger.

“D—Damn… it,” Kariya’s voice has dropped an octave and taken on a strange edge. He sounds out of breath, as if he’s just finished running down to Miyama town and then back up to the church several times over. Sweat lines his brow and his hairline, and his right arm has started shaking. He grabs a fistful of his track pants, as if he’s trying to keep himself still.

“Don’t—don’t look at me, priest,” Kariya whines, trying to force his body onto its side, away from Kirei. “I—I can’t— _shit,_ I’m sorry, don’t take… anything I say… seriously—hnngh, _god._ ”

Kirei says nothing, just watches. He opens his mouth once, about to ask him what on earth has gotten into him, but he quickly shuts it once he spots Kariya’s right hand inching lower down his own thigh.

“F… _Fuck,_ ” Kariya grunts, his hand sliding between his legs— _Oh,_ Kirei realizes, eyes darting down to the inconspicuous tent in Kariya’s track pants, _he’s aroused—_ and rubbing frantically, his entire body jolting at the touch. He starts panting heavily, his voice rising to a fever pitch. “You healed me, back there—I thought—I thought I was gonna die, but then I felt your hand on me, _fuck,_ I want you to touch me again, I want you to pull on my hair again, pull my hair and bend me over and fuck me raw until I can’t breathe, fuck me till I cry, fuck me till I can’t think straight, _shit—_ ”

Kariya continues on like that, jerking himself off through his clothes while rambling near-incoherently. Without realizing it, Kirei starts moving around his desk towards Kariya, as if entranced.

Kirei grabs at Kariya’s right wrist, wrenching his hand away from himself. Kariya lets out a loud, whimpering moan, drool spilling down his chin as he looks up at Kirei. He babbles more, _fuck me, fuck me please, I can’t take it anymore, the worms, please, spread me open and wreck me,_ but Kirei pays none of it any mind.

Instead, he cocks his other arm back, fingers spread, and jams it against Kariya’s stomach. A soft green glow ebbs from his palm, the magic spreading through Kariya’s body.

“Thrashing around like this will only reopen your wounds,” Kirei says, his tone oddly soft to his own ears. “Calm down and sleep after this.”

Kariya lets out a scream, throwing his head back against the couch. His hips twitch up, desperately seeking out the friction that he’s being denied. “More, more, holy _fuck,_ yes, _yes—_ just like that—ah, aah, _aaahhhh!_ ”

He cums like that, with Kirei’s hand against his stomach and his arm held above his head. His right eye shuts, lips pursing around an ever louder stream of curses and pleas as he stains the dark fabric of his pants. Soon enough, he calms down, sinking heavily down into the cushions. His breaths hiss out of him, shaking, his entire body trembling under Kirei’s hands.

The healing doesn’t take long after that. The worms have all but stopped moving under Kariya’s skin, seemingly sated by his release. That’s just as well; it makes the healing more potent, now that the worms aren’t impeding his efforts.

Kirei sets Kariya’s arm down, lying it against his chest. His breathing has evened out, now that he’s passed out. He gives a cursory glance down towards Kariya’s ruined pants, nose wrinkling. Even _his_ hospitality will only go so far—if he’s sleeping fine now, he doesn’t need to strip him.

Lifting his hand, Kirei stares down into his own palm. His brain kicks back into gear, having whited out somewhere along the line. He was operating on instinct alone that entire time, not stopping to think about his actions, just _acting._

“What,” he says, feeling a bead of sweat roll down the back of his neck. “Was _that?_ ”

Clearly, the Matou crest worms did far more than just eat away at their host. Though he’s having trouble coming up with a justifiable reason for them to incite _that_ kind of reaction in their host. _Sexual activity stirs up mana,_ he thinks. _Though it’s strange that he reacted in that way just because I stood up suddenly._

His gait slow and heavy, Kirei walks back over to his desk, sitting down and burying his face in his hands. He needed to call Tokiomi to tell him about Risei, still, but he’s oddly winded.

He’ll wait until after his blood cools to call him. He hopes Kariya stays unconscious for that.


	2. Chapter 2

“Does your father’s death truly arouse no feeling in you?” Archer says from behind him, his smile bleeding into his words. “He was killed, after all. You could at least _try_ to look a little sad.”

Kirei did not turn to look at him, knowing how dangerous it would be to make eye contact with the snake. It wouldn’t be wise, especially considering just how close by Tokiomi still is—just beyond that door, a few steps away.

“I am,” Kirei replies, though he doesn’t move—even if he wanted to, he finds himself unable to take another step. “I am frustrated to no end.”

“Oh, surely you are,” Gilgamesh laughs lightly, his voice washing over Kirei in waves. He need only speak a few words, and Kirei could feel himself succumbing to that formless contentment that always comes when he’s speaking with the King of Heroes. “But I wonder if that’s all. You seem a tad distracted, as well… as if there’s something else on your mind, that outweighs even the death of your father.”

Kirei felt his brow twitch. Gilgamesh has a way of sounding like he knows more than he lets on, and it’s rather grating. “Meaning?”

Gilgamesh’s voice comes in close now, though Kirei does not move to face him still. “Could it be you’ve found a new toy to play with while I wasn’t looking, Kirei? I wonder if we will be alone the next time I stop by.”

_He knows,_ Kirei thinks, feeling himself grow tense. He hopes and prays that Tokiomi isn’t listening, because he isn’t certain he can _take_ an extra headache. _I don’t know how, but he knows. Why must he bring it up here, of all places—_

“I’m interested in meeting that mad dog’s Master face to face,” a voice in his ear now, lips grazing his skin. “Kotomine Kirei.”

Before Kirei can get a word in edgewise, Archer returns to his spirit form and vanishes in a shower of golden light, leaving Kirei to struggle to catch his breath. Swiping a hand over his face, he takes in a deep breath, continuing down the hall.

He only had until later that afternoon to check on Kariya. Tokiomi is getting restless, even stooping so low as to ask the _Einzberns_ for an alliance. It can only go poorly, Kirei has already decided; knowing that homunculus serving as Saber’s keeper, an alliance will be out of the question as soon as she sees Kirei standing next to Tokiomi.

She may even want him killed, or removed from the Holy Grail war all together. He supposes he can’t blame her. Though it’s troublesome, he knows it to be so, Kirei… isn’t worried. If anything, this gives him a grand opportunity.

To rid himself of Tokiomi once and for all. To get that much closer to finding the answer he’s been seeking. However… there is one wrench in that plan.

Matou Kariya.

_Perhaps that, too, can be worked around,_ Kirei pushes through the front door of the Tohsaka manor, the morning wind kissing against his cheeks. _His animosity for Tokiomi could work in my favor, if I manage to keep a clear head… but first, I will have to ensure that his mind is not entirely lost._

Those worms were both a blessing and a problem. A blessing because watching Kariya writhe fills Kirei with a strange sort of warmth. A problem because he won’t have much longer to toy with him, if he allows the worms to devour him completely.

“ _Fuck me,” Kariya says, squirming against the couch cushions. “Please, priest—Kirei, I need it, I want you so bad—ahh—” He threw his head back, pursing his lips against a moan._

“ _What are you waiting for, Kirei?” Archer is there now, too, kneeling at Kariya’s side, his hand grasping at his chin tightly. “Show me that interest of yours. I want to see it, and so does he. And if you’re good, I might just give you something, myself.”_

Kirei knocks his knuckles against the gate as he reaches for it, the pain sending shock waves up his still-tingling right arm. His imagination has been a little too active lately, conjuring images like that, continuations to events that he’d _really_ rather not conceptualize.

Blasphemy may have been a concern of his before. He didn’t care much for that fact now, though, and instead of reeling in disgust at such thoughts, Kirei can only find himself exasperated that they couldn’t wait until he was back at the church.

Rubbing his knuckles absently, Kirei continues down the road. He hopes Kariya hasn’t woken yet.

 

* * *

 

_A crack runs down Berserker’s helmet. Kariya, held up by both his hands, feels himself throb at the sight of his true face._

_Framed with long, dark hair, if he’d been summoned normally, he would’ve been astoundingly handsome. But now, it’s twisted by madness and rage, his teeth brought to a razor sharp point and his eyes bulging, twitching incessantly. Kariya feels his heart clench up in fear, but something else—something strange—grips him, too._

_He had summoned him as a Berserker at Zouken’s behest. He hadn’t considered what it would do to the Servant he was giving the Madness Enhancement to—hell, all he’d been concerned with was Sakura, to hell with everyone else. But he feels… an overwhelming sadness at the words he’d spewed, words that were as eloquent as they were hateful. He didn’t summon Berserker to make a friend or bond for life, but as heat floods his veins, so too does a sudden sense of passion._

_Releasing his hold on Berserker’s wrist, Kariya reaches out. Gently, he cups Berserker’s face, watching his features falter at the tender touch from an otherwise stand-offish Master._

“ _You gave into love, and it destroyed you. No wonder I summoned a Servant like you,” Kariya’s thumb swept over the pinched swell of his cheek, feeling Berserker’s grip on his throat loosen. “Lancelot.”_

_The uttering of his true name brings light to his eyes. Perhaps it’s here, and here alone, that Lancelot du Lac can truly manifest as the proud, chivalrous knight he once was. Lancelot releases Kariya’s neck, his hands moving to cup his Master’s face, mirroring Kariya’s action._

“ _My… Master,” Lancelot grinds out, through the veil of madness. His voice is a deep grunt, framed around an anguished gurgle. Tears budded at the corners of his eyes, his entire frame beginning to shake now that his anger had no outlet, now that his rage was bleeding back into sorrow. “I…”_

_Kariya pulls him close, pressing Lancelot’s face into his bare neck. “I know.”_

_Lancelot shudders against Kariya, and then, given his Master’s wordless assent, he sinks his teeth into Kariya’s neck._

 

 

With a jolt, Kariya wakes, feeling the worms leisurely eating away at him. It’s not as frenzied as normal, but it still hurts like hell, enough to rouse him. He tries calming down, but to no avail. Gritting his teeth, Kariya swipes a hand over his forehead, his palm coming away drenched in sweat.

_Where… oh right,_ Kariya’s thoughts come to him slowly. _Fuyuki church. That priest brought me here after healing me, and I…_

The rest of the previous night came rushing back to him. He looks down to see the dark stain at the front of his pants, and Kariya feels his face turn hot. He tries not getting worked up, but the things he said, the things he _did_ in front of a man he’d only just met—

“Oh my _god,_ kill me,” Kariya says out loud, covering his eyes. “It had to happen right then, didn’t it, for fuck’s sake— _ugh.”_

There’s a few reasons why Kariya doesn’t like staying at the Matou house; one being that, aside from Sakura— _who he doesn’t want to see him like this—_ no one likes him. The feeling is very much mutual there. Another is the worms; as it seems that eating him alive isn’t enough, sometimes, in between bouts of pain, he gets hit with a wave of overwhelming lust.

_That old bastard,_ Kariya grits his teeth, hissing through them. _He was probably hoping I’d embarrass myself like this at some point._

Kariya thanks his lucky stars that the priest seems to be out, because he isn’t sure he could look him in the eye after that. Though, that brings up a good question—why is he feeling leagues better than he did before? Usually after those bouts of arousal, Kariya feels remarkably worse, that much closer to his inevitable death.

“Don’t tell me healing works best when I’m like that,” Kariya grumbles to himself. “I’d sooner die.”

“You will, if this keeps up.”

Kariya just about jumps, shooting up to a sitting position at the sudden voice. Standing in the door is Kirei, regarding him with those blank eyes of his. Kariya can’t meet his gaze, opting instead to stare at the top of his head. A spike of pain goes up his spine at the sudden movement, but Kariya bites down on the groan that threatens to escape him.

“Y—You’re back…” Kariya says, his voice cracking. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

Kirei lets out a soft huff, coming in the rest of the way. He sits behind his desk, propping his elbows up on the surface and bridging his hands, looking at Kariya over his entwined fingers. “I did not expect you to be awake so soon. Your wounds were quite severe. And yet, I can see that the burns on your face have healed over entirely.”

Blinking in surprise, Kariya lifts his hand to touch at his face. Aside from the usual protrusions, the skin there was normal, completely healed. “They are… I didn’t…”

“But you’re not completely healed yet, correct?” Kirei presses, his voice even. “You were burned from head to toe.”

Kariya looks back towards Kirei, eye narrowed. “You didn’t check me while I was out, did you?”

“Of course not.” Kirei scoffs. “I find it surprising that you would accuse me of such a thing, given your own conduct. You are aware that you are in the house of God, are you not?”

Feeling his cheeks burn anew, Kariya’s expression breaks back into embarrassment. Swallowing thickly, he combs a hand through his hair. What the hell is he supposed to say? _Sorry I started jerking off in front of you?_ Or, even better, _Apologies for desecrating your holy church with my worm-fueled horndogging, Father?_ No matter what he says, it’s going to come out awkward.

But the priest is looking at him intensely, expecting an answer out of him. Letting out a groan, Kariya reluctantly meets his eyes. “I’m really, awfully sorry that you had to see that, Father Kotomine. I, uh… can’t exactly control when that happens. But still, I didn’t intend to bring any disrespect to the church, or to you, for the. You know.”

Kirei raises an eyebrow at him. Shit. Does that mean he wants Kariya to elaborate? _No, no, please god._ “Um… when I said those things to you, they were… I… I wasn’t in my right mind, and you were the only other person here, I… god, _please_ don’t make me say anything more.”

There’s an odd little smirk on Kirei’s face now, and Kariya doesn’t know how to feel about it. “No need to worry, Matou Kariya. All is forgiven. After all, you prefaced everything with _do not take what I say seriously,_ so I had an inkling that you were not in control of yourself.”

A sigh so heavy leaves him that Kariya almost deflates along with it, the relief washing over him in waves. “Thank you for understanding. It’s… I mean, you have eyes, you can probably see I’m… riddled with parasites.”

Kirei stands up—slowly this time, Kariya notices—and walks over to him, sitting down in the armchair to his right. “I had been meaning to inquire about that. Is it a preexisting condition?”

Under normal circumstances, Kariya would feel the need to tell him to mind his own business. But the poor guy watched him cum while he screamed for more, so he feels he at least owes him more of an explanation. “Not exactly. Well, kind of. I was implanted with several crest worms about a year ago, and on occasion, just eating me isn’t enough for them…”

“Crest worms?” Kirei raises both eyebrows this time. “That’s…”

“Yeah, sounds pretty nasty, right?” Kariya flops back down onto the couch, feeling too strung-out to care much about staying upright, or about keeping the Matou family’s secrets. “That’s the Matou family for you. I’m sure you’ve heard rumors about their magic, but the truth’s a lot uglier.”

Kirei leans forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. He bridges his hands once more, resting his chin atop his knuckles. Kariya wonders if he’s shifting to a more comfortable position because of him—that rigid posture didn’t last long, that’s for sure.

“Isn’t the Matou family magic meant to be secret?” Kirei asks. Kariya swears he can hear an odd tone of delight in his voice when he next speaks, “You are the heir apparent to the family, are you not?”

Kariya laughs, a humorless, nasty sound. “Yeah, right. I couldn’t have gotten the hell out of that shithole faster—I couldn’t give less of a damn about spilling the secrets about their devil’s magic. I’m not fighting for _their_ sake, anyway.”

He isn’t sure why he’s so talkative with this man. Being left on his own all this time, having no one to talk to aside from Berserker (and let’s face it, he’s not much for conversation anyway)… he didn’t realize it before now, but Kariya had gotten _very_ lonely. During times like these back when he was on the road for his job, he could at least call Aoi, but this time… it’s out of the question.

Like it or not, Kotomine Kirei is talking to him. Listening to him. And he isn’t berating him or belittling him, like Zouken or Byakuya would. It provides him with the positive interaction he’d been missing these last few weeks.

_But it’s still…_ Kariya feels himself grow tense all over again. _What if the rumors are really true, and he’s…_

“Mind if I ask _you_ a question, Father?” Kariya says without stopping to think _hey, maybe phrase it a little less hostilely, idiot._ He can’t help himself; just thinking that this man had any kind of connection with Tokiomi put a bad taste in his mouth.

If it’s true, he may very well end up dead before he can reach the Grail.

 

* * *

 

Kirei finds himself a bit surprised by Kariya’s sudden shift in attitude. And he was thinking that he’d had him in the palm of his hand this whole time… seems like the other man is a bit sharper than he thought.

“Certainly,” Kirei answers, tilting his head to the side just slightly. “What is troubling you?”

Kariya squints at him, his mouth drawn into a tight line. “Is it true that the Holy Church is in league with the Tohsaka family?”

_Far sharper than I thought indeed,_ Kirei does his best not to react outwardly, but he still feels himself stiffen a bit. _And quick to the point. He will not trust me if I tell an obvious lie. And if I_ do _lie… and Archer happens to come knocking… it will be messy._

Kirei sighs. “Yes. It is true. My father, Kotomine Risei, and Tohsaka Tokiomi entered an agreement before the start of the Holy Grail war, and I have been cooperating accordingly… to a point.”

As Kirei had anticipated, Kariya scowls, sitting up and leaning away from him. It makes Kirei feel strange, and not in a good way. He hoped that the _to a point_ would have eased Kariya’s worries, but it doesn’t look like that worked.

“Then I have a follow-up,” Kariya says, his tone sliding lower. His right hand balls into a fist, his shoulders shaking with the effort. “Why did you save me, really? Are you going to hand me over to Tokiomi?”

_Now what?_ Kirei finds himself clenching his jaw. _If I don’t think of something quickly, he’s sure to summon Berserker and have me killed. I don’t want that, not now. I still haven’t…_

“No,” Kirei’s lips move on their own, giving voice to instinctive thought. “I wanted to save you because I did not want you to die.”

Though Kirei is about to take it back and try to elaborate, it seems like that worked better than anything else. Kariya’s eyes softened, his hand uncurling slowly as he gradually relaxes—not out of relief, but sheer shock, as if he hadn’t been expecting an answer like that. He doesn’t speak, leaving Kirei to continue.

“My father was killed in this very church by one of the other Masters,” Kirei says, feeling a cold spike of rage shoot down his spine at the memory. “As the new Overseer of this war, I am merely exercising more proactive means in carrying out my duty.”

Kariya grits his teeth, the left side of his mouth opening slightly. “Even so, that doesn’t change the fact that you’re working with the Tohsaka family. Or are you telling me that, in saving _me,_ you’re even willing to—”

A hearty laugh cuts him off, and Kariya jolts at the interruption. Kirei doesn’t have to guess to know who that laugh belongs to.

“How shrewd,” Croons that new voice, echoing slightly as its owner manifests. Archer appears behind the couch, his arms resting on the frame as he regards Kariya with the same look a predator gives its prey. “That you’ve allowed him to wander down the path of your own mind, Kirei. And in _my_ spot, no less.”

Kariya all but jumps, making that the second time today. Kirei is quick to stand, reaching out to brace Kariya’s body before it can completely tumble off the couch. He does it without thinking, again. Gilgamesh saunters around to the front, moving to sit down with no regard for Kariya’s legs. Kirei takes care of this too, moving Kariya’s limp left leg to bend and give the King of Heroes room to sit.

He’s given a brief look by Kariya, a look that Kirei can’t quite name. It’s an odd mix of scandalized and grateful— _Is there a word for that,_ Kirei wonders.

“An open act of fraternization and betrayal to my Master,” Gilgamesh says airily, leaning back and crossing one leg over the other. He tips his head back, eyeing Kirei’s strangely thoughtful actions with a cocked eyebrow. “All because of this stray mongrel you’ve picked up… I’m in awe, Kirei.”

Kariya, thankfully, is speechless at Archer’s sudden appearance, as well as just how _at home_ he is in Kirei’s presence.

“Archer,” Kirei says, disengaging from Kariya after a breath. “Are you really so surprised?”

Gilgamesh smirks to himself, clearly pleased that he’s been let in on this particularly dangerous secret. “Maybe a bit, Kirei. I never thought you would be so proactive in seeking out real pleasure,” he turns attention back to Kariya, meeting his eyes. Kariya is still shocked silent, sweat lining his brow. “Aren’t you lucky, mongrel?”

Closing his mouth, Kariya is quick to break eye contact with Gilgamesh, looking back up towards Kirei. “Uh…?”

“Archer has been paying me visits like this for some time now,” Kirei gives, his voice startlingly calm to his own ears. “Pay him no mind, he is only here for my wine stores.”

“Come now, give me more credit than that!” Gilgamesh says, holding a hand to his chest in mock-hurt. “I come for your company as well, don’t I?”

Kirei gives him a blank look, which only seems to amuse Gilgamesh more, a deep chuckle rumbling from his throat. For all that banter, Kariya still doesn’t seem satisfied with the answer.

“No, I—I mean, yeah, I guess that’s… good to know,” His eyes dart back towards Gilgamesh for a split second. He seems further unsettled by Gilgamesh’s half-lidded look of smug satisfaction. “But no, I mean, what’s he talking about when he says _pleasure?”_

“Oh _Kirei,_ ” Gilgamesh answers for him, looking up at Kirei with pitying eyes. “Don’t tell me you haven’t _done_ anything with him yet?”

Kirei narrows his eyes, feeling his ire ripen at that. He tries offering Kariya the closest thing he can manage to a sympathetic look, but he’s certain it doesn’t look much different from his usual blank stare. “I would appreciate it if you did not make such sinister implications on my behalf, Archer.”

Rolling his eyes, Gilgamesh turns his full attention to Kariya, leaning towards him over the couch. He braces a hand on Kariya’s left knee. “Come now, mongrel, surely you’ve—ah, I see… you’re shy, aren’t you? Swept off your feet by a handsome man of God, you, looking as wretched as you do… you need not worry, he is as passive a lover as they come. Though I intend to change this, so try not to get used to it.”

Kariya looks like a fish out of water the longer this goes on. Kirei pinches the bridge of his nose and lets out a sigh. “We’re getting off topic, Archer. You were about to berate me for fraternization or some such.”

“Aha, yes. Well, _berate_ may be too strong a word.” Gilgamesh releases his hold on Kariya’s knee (to Kariya’s extremely evident relief, if the sigh he lets out is anything to go off of) and leans back, eyes back on Kirei. “But I’m sure you already know that Tokiomi will not be pleased, should he learn that you’ve scraped the mad dog’s Master off the pavement and secreted him away in the neutral zone.”

Kirei let his eyes wander to Kariya, seeing how his face instinctively pinches into displeasure at the mention of Tokiomi’s name. “I am aware, Archer,” Kirei says, his tone smooth. “And he shall not learn of it.”

Gilgamesh raises his eyebrows at that, but that brief look melts back into his usual smugness, his head tipping up, challenging. “Oh, he won’t? You know, I could very well let it slip to him… a happy accident… and then he would have me come and finish the job. How, pray tell, are you going to prevent that from happening?”

“But you won’t,” Kirei folds his arms behind his back, staring down into Gilgamesh’s eyes with cool detachment. “Such petty things are beneath the King of Heroes, are they not?”

Kariya squirms a bit where he’s sitting, looking like he wants to be anywhere but here at this very moment. Kirei can’t help but watch from the corner of his eye, his blood coming to a simmer at the sight. He flinches at the boisterous laugh that Gilgamesh lets out then, and again when he falls back against the couch, clutching his stomach.

“Aren’t you a bold one, Kirei!” Gilgamesh says in between fits of laughter, one hand smoothing up into his own golden locks to try and calm himself. “Yes, it’s true—there’s nothing in it for me, if I report this. What Tokiomi does not know won’t kill him… though, I’m sure that your pet mongrel here would desire nothing more, yes?”

Even when he isn’t looking at him directly, Kirei can see the way Kariya’s hackles raise. Before Kariya can say something that will get him killed, Kirei says, “Your jokes leave much to be desired, King of Heroes.”

With a soft huff, Gilgamesh stands up, walking towards the cabinet next to his desk, where he knows Kirei keeps his wine. Kirei lets out a sigh, his eyes back on Kariya now. The disgraced Matou heir is in poor spirits, scowling to himself and drawing his hood up and over his head.

An idea suddenly occurs to Kirei. He doesn’t particularly want to try healing Kariya while Gilgamesh is in the room—God only knows what would happen if Kariya got worked up again—but he also knows he won’t leave if asked. Kirei breathes in through his nose, and catches a whiff of Kariya’s track suit, now that the hood is up.

“Matou Kariya,” Kirei leans forward, getting Kariya’s attention back on him. “I presume it’s been some time since you’ve bathed.”

 

* * *

 

Kariya feels about ready to summon Berserker and let him tear this entire church to the ground, at this rate. It’s bad enough that Tokiomi’s Servant is here, and obnoxious, and _was he hitting on him just then with the hand on his bum knee or was he just imagining it,_ and now the priest is implying that he stinks.

Actually no, he’s not implying it, he’s just _saying_ it. Kariya glowers, “I’ve been living on the street for the last few weeks, and no, I couldn’t get anyone to let me use their place without them asking questions.”

The priest arches an eyebrow at him. “You could have used magecraft to that end. Simple hypnosis isn’t beyond you, is it?”

Turning to glare at him, Kariya scoffs. “I’m not like other mages. I won’t use magic on innocent people for something that inane.”

Kirei gives him a look before offering him his hand. “In that case, come with me. You may use the bath we have here in the rectory. I can use that opportunity to heal you further.”

So not only is he telling him that he stinks, he’s also offering to _bathe_ him, like he’s some kind of old bastard that can’t take care of himself. That’s what this is, isn’t it? He’s pitying him. If what Tokiomi’s Servant says is true and Kirei’s only brought him in as a _‘pet,’_ then he must have only rescued him out of pity.

“I can wash myself just fine,” Kariya swings his right leg off the couch, having to nudge his left along with it. He avoids looking Kirei in the eye. “Just show me where it is and I’ll handle the rest.”

“I do not doubt that you can,” Kirei insists, his hand still outstretched. “But I still wish to aid you.”

It still doesn’t sound like a good idea but, really and truly, Kariya wants nothing more than to get the _hell_ out of here, away from Archer. At least Kirei isn’t nearly as obnoxious and prone to laughing at his own jokes— _if this guy even has a funny bone in his body,_ Kariya thinks.

Heaving a sigh, Kariya takes Kirei’s hand, feeling his stomach clench as Kirei hardly even shifts in place with Kariya’s added weight pulling at his arm. “You _don’t_ want to see me naked, I can tell you that much right now.”

“Given what you’ve already shown me,” Kirei says, his face blank and his tone monotonous. “I think that seeing you naked is rather low on the list of things that should concern you.”

The entire room falls silent. Kariya feels the worms starting to pick up speed in their once-leisurely pace, now working their way to a frenzy—or, worse yet, trying to work him back up to that uncomfortable lust that plagues him every so often.

“Let’s,” Kariya croaks, already limping towards the door, feeling the tips of his ears burn. “Let’s just go, don’t say anything else.”

Kariya pushes through the door, hearing Kirei behind him talking with Archer, “Feel free to help yourself all you like, Archer. If you’ll excuse us.”

(Kariya counts his lucky stars that he didn’t linger long enough to see the knowing smirk Gilgamesh gave Kirei in return.)

Kirei leads Kariya down the hall of the rectory to the bathroom. It’s not what Kariya expected; a mix of modern and traditional, with a more up-to-date bath tub, sink, toilet, and shower, clearly modern tiling, but with low-lit candles protruding from the walls as opposed to electric lighting. The design is odd, but practical, though the balance between the two is obviously skewed towards the traditional.

The door shuts behind them. Kariya feels the anxiety setting in, watching Kirei brush past him to start the water for the tub. Should… should he undress while his back’s turned? That’s probably better than waiting for him to turn back around and watch, or to awkwardly cover his eyes while he does it.

As Kariya attempts to unbutton his tracksuit, he realizes belatedly why he hasn’t tried changing clothes since the start of the Grail War. Getting undressed with only one good hand was a pain in the ass. Still is, because the buttons are slick and caked in grime, and the awkwardness of the situation doesn’t help him when it comes to keeping himself steady. How pathetic, he can’t even manage _this_ much.

He sees a pair of feet enter his field of vision from where he’s got his head tipped down. Kariya looks back up to see Kirei, leveling him with an unreadable stare. Those eyes, no light in them, cold as ice, piercing right through him…

The steam rising from the hot water running is getting to him. That’s what it is. That’s why he lets his hand drop, surely, allowing Kirei to step in closer to help him unbutton his jacket. He doesn’t say anything, just dutifully undoes the buttons, one after another, his fingers deft and unwavering.

_He’s got such big hands,_ Kariya’s thoughts start bubbling, broiling, his vision starting to cloud. He suddenly finds himself not minding if Kirei uses those hands to touch him. He tries not breathing through his mouth like his urges tell him to, like the worms insist he does, like the animal he is.

_Just to wash me,_ Kariya’s last bastion of rational thought insists. _Nothing else. Nothing weird. There’s nothing wrong with that, right? Right? Yeah._

Even that rationale is fading fast as Kirei’s hands smooth over Kariya’s shoulders, easing the jacket off him and letting it fall to the floor. His nose just barely wrinkles at the sight of Kariya’s turtleneck, rumpled and caked in blood and sweat. “I’ll have these washed.” he murmurs, mostly to himself.

“Yeah,” Kariya hears himself say, his voice cracked. “Sure.”

Kirei flicks his eyes up, scrutinizing Kariya’s face. Kariya isn’t sure if he’s as flushed as he feels, but if he is, Kirei doesn’t comment on it. “Can you lift your arms?”

Arms. Right. He has to take his shirt off if he wants to get into the bath. He’d _really_ rather not let anyone see the poor shape his body’s in, but it seems like that’s not an option. Kirei doesn’t look like he’s willing to bargain, as far as this goes. Kariya lifts his right arm, trying to steady his breathing before he answers. “I can’t move my left arm much, I don’t think I can lift it.”

“Is that so…” Kirei moves now to grab at the hem of Kariya’s shirt, gingerly lifting it up and over his abdomen. Kariya bites the inside of his cheek, pulling his right arm out of the sleeve and allowing Kirei to slide it off his left arm. Feeling his heartbeat pound lightly in his ears, Kariya chances a look at Kirei, and of course, he’s looking at the sorry state he’s in; the burns left by Tokiomi’s attack don’t look as poor as they might’ve looked last night, but the skin is still raw. As for the lesions… Kirei’s gaze didn’t linger.

The two of them stood like that for a time, Kirei holding Kariya’s rumpled turtleneck in his left hand, Kariya unconsciously lifting his right arm to clutch at his bum arm by the elbow. He feels like he’s being stripped down in more than just clothes—with those eyes on him, Kariya feels like Kirei’s gaze is leaving trails of heat in their wake. His head is starting to swim, his lips parting to suck in the dampened air.

“Will you be needing help with the rest?” Kirei asks, his tone oddly soft, thoughtful.

“Yes,” Kariya’s lips move without his permission, his voice coming out in a desperate hiccup. “Please.”

_Really? ‘Please?’ Thank god you’re using your manners while trying to get your rocks off,_ Kariya’s rationale is but a whisper in the back of his mind now, unable to keep from picking at how quickly he is to throw his pride out the window. It isn’t anything like last night, it isn’t as sudden—it’s breaking over him slowly, bleeding into him at a sluggish pace.

Kirei doesn’t look back up at him when he gives his assent. Instead, he takes a knee, and Kariya can feel that simmering in his veins coming to a boil. Letting go of his left arm, Kariya covers his mouth, trying to muffle the little sigh that threatens to leave him. He can feel his pants tighten just at the implications, and since Kirei’s already down there, he’s _sure_ he can see it, and—

“I—I’m… sorry,” Kariya mutters through his fingers. Kirei looks up at him, pausing where he had started unbuckling Kariya’s belt. “It’s… happening again—”

“It’s fine, Matou Kariya,” he replies, his tone flat as he resumes undressing him. “I am well aware that it is involuntary, and not because of me.”

_No, but it is,_ Kariya thinks, his thoughts now completely flying off the rails. _It was because of you last night, too, but now it’s because you’re so close and warm and please, please, please touch me, no one’s touched me in so long and I need it, I need it._

It takes all of Kariya’s self control not to voice these thoughts, instead letting out a high whine as Kirei slips his belt out of his pants. He unbuttons them, and then unzips the fly. Kirei’s thumbs slip into the waistband of his slacks—that touch, just the feel of the backs of his thumbs against his hips, even through the fabric of his boxers, is enough to drag a moan out of Kariya.

Kirei pauses. He slowly glances up at Kariya, and Kariya feels like dying. But he slowly pulls his slacks down, still staring up at him, until they’re around his ankles. He pointedly did not look between his legs. “Are you able to move your left leg?”

Yes, he is, just a little. “No,” Kariya lies, craving his touch more and more now. “Not much.”

What Kariya failed to recall in his heat-filled haze is that his left leg, while mostly useless, serves as an anchor for him. As soon as Kirei’s hand is on his ankle, lifting it off the ground to slide his pants off, Kariya can feel his right knee buckling, losing his balance as he pitches to the left.

_Shit, shit, shit, shit—_ Kariya flings his arm out, trying to at least break his fall. _Great fucking job, asshole, now you’re gonna crack your skull on this guy’s bathroom floor all because you couldn’t keep it in your pants—_

Thankfully, Kirei is there, before he can even blink. Strong arms shoot under Kariya’s and wrap around his shoulder blades, his leg sliding out to bear the brunt of their combined weight. He catches Kariya like he weighs nothing, like he’s as light as a doll. He could probably break Kariya if he really wanted to.

Kirei says something, but Kariya can’t hear it over the ringing in his ears. His face is pressed into Kirei’s shoulder, against his broad body, and before Kariya can stop himself, his right arm is coming up to clutch at the back of Kirei’s shirt. He presses the full line of his body against the priest, all of his weight settling against him, sliding one of Kirei’s legs between his thighs.

“Ma—” Kirei says, as close to startled as his voice can probably sound. Kariya throws their balance off, sending Kirei to the floor. He lands on his ass, Kariya’s knees bumping heavily into the floor as he closes in further, clinging to Kirei as if he’s his only lifeline. Kirei’s arms are still around Kariya, tightening around him out of shock. “Are you all…”

“I’m…” Kariya muffles into Kirei’s shoulder. He shakes against him, trembling as the worms only work him up further, flooding his mind with thoughts of _he’s so warm and so hard and he’s so strong I want him to touch me, I want him to kiss me until I can’t breathe, shove his tongue down my throat and work my cock against him, want to shove my cock down his throat, please, please, please._ “I can’t… I can’t… help… _please_ help me.”

Kirei turns his head slightly, but Kariya can only feel it, not see it. “Help… you mean…”

“Please,” Kariya begs. He can feel his eyes are starting to water, his breath wheezing out of him. “It’s really strong this time, I can’t think straight, I just—need someone to—I-I’ll make it up to you after, I swear, I _swear,_ please just— _help me.”_

There’s silence for what feels like years as Kirei contemplates this. Finally, in a low voice, Kirei says, “What would you have me do, then, Matou Kariya?”

Hearing his voice so close, and giving consent at that, makes Kariya sob into his shoulder. “Just touch me, and… and… can I use your leg? I won’t take my boxers off, I’ll wash your pants after, I just…”

His voice is no better than incoherent sobbing, but strangely, he can feel Kirei’s grip around him tighten. The priest lets out a deep, rumbling sigh, and he starts smoothing his hands up and down his back. “You’re an easy man to please, Matou.”

“Don’t call me that,” Kariya shuffles his hips, resting his cock against the swell of Kirei’s thigh. He grinds against him, feeling the thickly packed muscle there, and he moans. “I don’t care about formalities, just call me by my first name.”

Kirei’s hands are moving in tandem now, one sliding up and along his neck, and the other dipping down the knobs of his spine. “Kariya, then.”

His entire body jerks, the wet spot against the front of his boxers growing with each jerk of his hips. Kariya pants heavily, his tears soaking into Kirei’s shirt, his voice leaving him sporadically in whines and moans. Kirei’s voice is so deep and rich, Kariya can feel it rattling his bones. He wants to hear it more and more. “Say it again—my name, please, say it.”

Threading his hand through his hair, Kirei takes in a breath, sounding oddly winded. “Kariya,” he says, and then, just to make matters worse, he presses his mouth against Kariya’s ear and whispers his name again. And again, and again, and—

“ _Fuck,_ ” Kariya swears, each breath leaving him framed around a moan, growing in volume as he nears his climax. He starts babbling, his hips grinding over Kirei’s thigh faster and faster, his movements becoming jerky and imprecise. “Yes, yes, yes, oh my _god,_ I—”

“ _Kariya._ ”

He cums like that, shivering against a man he hardly knows as he whispers his name like a prayer into his ear, his hands wandering up and down his back slowly. Kariya cries into Kirei’s shoulder over and over again, his cock pinned against Kirei’s thigh as he cums in his boxers for the second time in the last two days.

He collapses, boneless, in Kirei’s arms. “Thank you…” Kariya breathes, his voice dry. “Father Kotomine… I’m sorry…”

Unbelievably, Kirei laughs. It’s soft, but it’s there, dusting through the hair against his neck. “I believe you can call me by my first name at this point, as well.”

“Fuck,” Kariya slips his arm free, bracing it against Kirei’s shoulder and putting some distance between them. “Sure thing. Kirei-san, how about that.”

Kirei gives another chuckle, with one side of his mouth quirked up. “Fine enough.”

Gathering Kariya up in his arms, Kirei gets them both to their feet. Glancing behind him, Kirei twisted the knob on the bath off; neither of them had the presence of mind to stop the tap for the hot water during all that, and now the tub was a mere few centimeters short of overflowing.


	3. Chapter 3

Kariya sits in the tub, bottom lip trapped between his teeth, as Kirei holds his hand over his stomach. _With the worms sated for a time,_ he’d explained, _the healing will be more effective._ Kariya didn’t want to think about what that meant, if he had to be healed more after this—he wanted to insist, tell Kirei that it’s meaningless, he’s as good as dead, that it’s only a matter of time…

But, as Kariya is starting to learn, Kotomine Kirei is not an easy man to argue with. Impossible, really, especially when he needs only to level Kariya with one blank look before he backs down, begrudgingly conceding to the priest.

So he sits there, right hand braced in a white-knuckled grip against the side of the tub, trying to breathe through the healing. The worms aren’t acting up, but magical healing still hurts like hell. It’s a bearable sort of pain, though, so Kariya can’t complain much.

“Your skin is beginning to heal over,” Kirei comments mildly, and Kariya notices that he’s staring, eyes tracking over his lower abdomen. “After this, I believe you will need one more session of healing before the burns are gone.”

Kariya fidgets a little. He knows he’s only looking down at him to assess his injuries, but after dry-humping the guy to nonexistent resistance, Kariya can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking. He thought the Holy Church was against couplings like that? _Maybe this guy’s just really progressive or something,_ he thinks, trying to distract himself from how his ears were starting to burn. _Guess I’m lucky, if that’s the case… it’s either that, or… he already swings that way?_

It could very well be either. Kariya hadn’t thought of himself as much of a curious guy—he’d loved Aoi for what felt like his entire life, he didn’t think he could feel _that_ kind of attraction towards anyone else. He blames most of his newfound libido on the worms—they make it so bad that grinding on an exposed lead pipe sounds like a good idea on Kariya’s better days—but the more he thinks about it… why is he not freaking out about this, now that his mind is no longer clouded by lust?

_Did I always have that in me?_ Kariya glances back over to Kirei, getting a good look at his face. The priest’s gaze was still on his abdomen, his hair hanging low over his brows, casting those blank eyes of his in light shadow. He has his sleeve on his left arm rolled up over his elbow, the muscles in his forearm pulled taut. He’s a handsome man, Kariya is willing to admit that much. He’s always considered himself comfortable enough in his own masculinity to acknowledge when another man was handsome without panicking. Up until these circumstances arose, he thought it just stopped there, at modest appreciation.

But now? He’s starting to look back on all those times, trying to discern whether or not he had a type, to see just how deep this rabbit hole went. There were celebrities, of course, that he found attractive—men with squared-off shoulders, broad bodies, dark hair, and deep eyes, those sorts called Kariya’s attention more than anyone else.

“So it’s tall, dark, and handsome, huh…” Kariya mumbles to himself, somehow forgetting that Kirei is quite literally _right_ next to him. Kirei’s eyes flick up towards Kariya, questioning. Heart shriveling up in his chest, Kariya clears his throat. “Oh, uh. Nothing. Just… thinking out loud.”

Kirei raises an eyebrow. “That is a first.”

“What is?” Kariya purses his lips, stiffening.

“Being called handsome,” Kirei says, elaborating. His expression is still blank, but his brows are slightly higher than normal. “Tall and dark, both are adequate descriptions for me. But handsome, coming from another man… well, other than Archer—”

“ _Stop,_ oh my god,” Kariya covers his eyes with his hand, tipping his head back, as if trying to physically escape this conversation. “This is new for me too, okay? I don’t go around grinding on whatever poor saps happen to be in my vicinity every time I get like that. I’m not a pervert.”

There’s a bemused quirk at the priest’s mouth now. Kariya really and truly begs for the worms to eat him alive at this rate. “I am well aware, Kariya,” Kirei says after a pause. “That your condition is something you cannot help. You needn’t continue to justify yourself to me.”

“But I—ugh,” Kariya winces, the muscles in his stomach clenching as the healing shifts inward. “You make it sound like I _need_ to, like I’m doing all this on purpose—I didn’t sign up for learning these kinds of things about myself when I agreed to get these worms implanted in me, you know?”

Kirei hums. “I can only imagine what possessed you to have this done to yourself.”

Kariya’s brows furrow at that. The way he said that sounded… off. Like he knows more than he’s letting on—but it’s just vague enough that Kariya isn’t sure if he’s reading too much into it or not. Kariya stares at him openly now, scrutinizing, not minding if he gets caught.

He still doesn’t trust this priest. He can’t tell what he’s thinking, can’t tell what he wants from him—his answer before is wholly unsatisfying to him still. Then again, their original conversation never really reached a conclusion—Archer had interrupted them and made everything awkward before that could happen. Now that they were alone, though, Kariya has more of a chance of getting answers out of him.

“Kirei-san,” Kariya says, his voice low. “We didn’t get to finish talking back there. Mind if I ask you again?”

The priest doesn’t react, slowly peering over towards him. “Ask me about what, exactly?”

“Your relationship with the Tohsaka family as it stands now,” Kariya meets his eyes, sitting up straighter in the bath. “And your relationship with Tokiomi.”

Kirei doesn’t even blink. He’s as still as a statue, save for the slow rise and fall of his chest— _stop that, Kariya, focus—_ just staring straight down the barrel at him. Kariya doesn’t flinch; now that the topic has shifted back to something important, Kariya isn’t about to let this priest force him into kowtowing.

“Ah yes,” Kirei tips his head up at him. “You were inquiring as much earlier, weren’t you. As I said before, the Church and the Tohsaka family have been in league with one another for years. However, I find myself less willing to blindly cooperate than my father was.”

“I don’t give a damn about that,” Kariya tries to be patient, he really does, but that’s not the answer he’s looking for. Kirei’s just telling him what he already knows. When he sees Kirei’s eyes slide back down to his own hand against Kariya’s stomach, Kariya seizes Kirei by the wrist, wrenching it out of the water to gain his full attention. The pain of the steady healing suddenly cutting off causes Kariya’s stomach to lurch, and he has to grit his teeth against the wince that slips out. “What about you and Tokiomi? Your father worked with him. I know that. But you still haven’t told me about what _your_ role was in that agreement they entered.”

Kirei regards Kariya with vague surprise. Kariya can feel the muscles of his left wrist flexing under his tight grip; Kirei could rip his hand out of his hold if he really wanted to, Kariya knows that. But he doesn’t, merely letting Kariya hold onto him while he formulates a response.

“I was to serve under Tokiomi as his apprentice,” Kirei says, not flinching when Kariya’s nails start digging into his flesh. “He was to teach me magecraft, and I was expected to uphold my role as a support Master for him.”

_So I dry-humped Tokiomi’s errand boy? Is that it?_ Kariya’s jaw clenches tightly. He shouldn’t work himself up, but the overwhelming wave of disgust that thins his veins is too much for him to tramp down on. Why would Tokiomi’s apprentice of all people scrape him off the pavement and take him in? Kariya doesn’t understand it, and the longer he doesn’t, the angrier he feels. He can’t afford to waste time with some stranger, he has to keep fighting, keep _trying,_ because if he doesn’t, Sakura will be forced to—

“ _Bye-bye, Uncle Kariya,”_ her soft, sad voice rings in his ears. _“Bye-bye…”_

Kariya’s voice lowers to a growl, the knuckles of his right hand standing out in clear relief. The lesions in his face pulse. “Then _why_ did you save me? Don’t give me that _I didn’t want you to die_ crap, I want the truth.”

Kirei’s hand twitches in Kariya’s hold. He blinks once, twice, gaze sliding away from Kariya. He doesn’t say anything, seeming to visibly struggle for an answer. It’s hard to tell with those eyes of his, but from what Kariya can tell, he isn’t putting on an act for him. Slowly, Kirei’s eyes meet Kariya’s once more, and in a soft voice he says, “I do not know. In saving you, Matou Kariya, I am actively rebelling against my teacher. But… I cannot find myself feeling any sort of regret for my actions.”

Gradually, Kariya lets go of Kirei’s wrist, his hand dropping back into the water with a small splash. That was _not_ the answer he’d been anticipating; he thought that the priest would come up with some spiel to feed him, to try and avoid the question further, but he didn’t. He gave him what feels like an honest answer—it _feels_ like it, but Kariya still isn’t sure. It’s clear enough to him that Kirei isn’t lying about not having a concrete answer.

“What are you going to do, then?” Kariya asks quietly, his shoulders still tense. “Tokiomi doesn’t… I mean… if he finds out, he’ll try to kill you.”

“If he tries,” Kirei’s voice thrums, rattling Kariya’s very bones. “I will kill him first.”

Eyes widening, Kariya lets his jaw drop. No—no, no, no, he doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want Tokiomi or Zouken dragging anyone else into this—it was enough when it was Sakura. _It was more than fucking enough when it was just Sakura._ This priest… it’s sounding more and more like he’s just being strung along by Tokiomi. Strung along by that arrogant, pompous, self-serving _prick._ If Tokiomi tries killing this man for doing something of his own will, then… then—

“No,” Kariya leans forward, unthinking, reaching to grab Kirei’s shoulder. “I’ll kill him, if he tries. He’s involved enough people in this pointless war, you shouldn’t have to get your hands dirty with _that_ bastard’s blood.”

The way Kirei’s eyes widen, in turn, tells Kariya that he must not have been prepared for that sort of reaction. “You would go so far? You hardly know me.”

“But I know Tokiomi,” Kariya insists, “And that’s enough. I don’t want anyone dying at that man’s hands, if I can help it. For all he’s done… not just to me, but to…”

Kariya bites his tongue. He wonders if Kirei knows Aoi. If he knows about what Tokiomi did to his second daughter. Even if he does, he isn’t sure that he wants to allude to it, at least not now. Just thinking of Aoi, of what she might think if she heard him talking like this… he draws his hand away from Kirei. He doesn’t want to think about that.

“I think I’ve had enough healing for today,” Kariya mutters, turning his face away from the priest. He can still feel those deep, dark eyes on him. “Sorry, but could I have some time alone? I wash myself just fine.”

“You’re certain?” Kirei presses.

“Yeah,” Kariya tries forcing a smile, though he swears that it must look as fake as it feels. “You’ve already done more than I could’ve ever asked for. Thank you, Kirei-san, I mean that.”

Kirei pauses for a moment or so more before he gives a slow nod, getting to his feet. Without even needing to be asked, he starts gathering up Kariya’s discarded clothes. “I will begin washing these, in that case. I’ll see about laying out a robe for you in the bedroom here—it is down the hall, last door on the right. Get some rest there, if you’d like.”

Kariya draws his good knee up in the water, resting his cheek against it as he watches Kirei. He feels himself cringe when Kirei grabs his ruined boxers. He can’t even maintain eye contact when Kirei looks directly at him when he grabs them—why he does that, Kariya isn’t sure, but he isn’t about to ask.

Just as Kirei is about to leave, he pauses at the door. “We can discuss Tokiomi later…” he says lowly, casting one last look over his shoulder. He turns the knob, stepping out into the hall. “As I feel our goals line up, when it comes to him.”

The door shuts with a soft click, and Kariya is alone. He sighs heavily, sinking lower into the water. It’s still warm and soothing, a sensation that Kariya hasn’t been familiar with in over a year. He hasn’t used magic to con anyone into letting him use their bathrooms since the War started, and it’ll be a cold day in hell before Zouken allows him to engage in _anything_ that’d make Kariya feel like less than trash. The only showers he’d allow back during those hellish months the year before the War were cold and quick, nothing satisfying or relaxing.

_Worm pit, cold shower, worm pit, a few scraps of food for a meal, worm pit, rinse and repeat._ He tries not to think about it often, given the worms inside him are _always_ eager to remind him, but as awful as it was… Sakura had it far, far worse. Did Zouken even allow her to bathe, to eat properly, to sleep in a _bed?_ For a child her age, all those things should absolutely be prerequisites. But Zouken is an inhuman monster—alive for so long that he doesn’t even know what it means to be a good father anymore, if he ever _did,_ let alone a grandfather.

Kariya dunks his head under the water, shaking himself slightly once he resurfaces. If the Overseer wants to be buddy-buddy with him for the moment, that’s fine—the sooner he can kill Tokiomi, the closer he gets to winning the Grail, and therefor, Sakura’s freedom. If he manages to land himself a proper bath in the process, he isn’t going to turn it down. He’ll feel bad, naturally, but once this is all over… he, Aoi, Sakura, and Rin can go somewhere far away, maybe take a trip to a hot spring. It may not make up for everything—but… as long as she’s safe, that’s what matters.

It doesn’t take him long to wash, once he decides that. At least, it doesn’t _feel_ long—Kariya’s sense of time is so skewed, he can hardly tell. Lathering one-handed is a bit of work, but he’s still able to rid himself of the grime and dried blood that caked his body from head to toe, coming out of the slowly-draining tub smelling much cleaner. Nothing floral, since the only soap Kirei seems to have is the generic-smelling stuff, but it’s better than carrying around the scent of the last dumpster he’d slept behind.

Drying off is more of a challenge. He can’t manage it completely on his own, and he’s still damp by the time he gives up and tucks the towel around his hips. His hair drips water onto his shoulders, mixing with the few splotches of wetness he couldn’t reach on his back.

_You should ask Kirei-san for help,_ an errant thought strays in, taking Kariya by surprise. He shakes his head at the thought as soon as it forms, limping his way out of the bathroom. He really, sincerely doubts that Kirei wants to get physical with him again so soon, especially with the risk of turning him— _the worms, not_ him, _the_ worms _—_ on. He’ll just air-dry the rest of the way.

A shiver bites at him. The hallway of the rectory is colder than he remembers it being. Quickly limping, he makes it to the room that Kirei had specified, shutting the door behind him. It’s just as dimly lit as his study; there’s a single window, letting in the early afternoon sun through thick red curtains, but even that isn’t enough to light the entire space. Though there is a single candle on the bedside table, flickering, illuminating the rather plain looking bed sheets.

It’s a queen size. Kariya wonders if it belongs to Kirei, or if this is a guest room. Kariya decides not to think about it, instead reaching for the robe that’s been laid out for him. It’s black and silken, almost _too_ big on Kariya once he shrugs into it. He struggles, but manages to fit his left arm into the left sleeve, pulling it on the rest of the way and knotting it.

This, without a doubt, belongs to Kirei. The thought brings his blood to a simmer.

Just as Kariya starts thumbing along the sash, deep in thought, he hears a loud clatter coming from across the church. The walls are thin, it seems like—but either way, it startles him. Was that Kirei just now? Is he being attacked? Wait—could Archer have told Tokiomi about Kariya being alive?

He doesn’t know. And there’s only one way for him to find out.

As quietly as he can manage, Kariya eases out of the bedroom and slinks down the hall. That clatter came from Kirei’s study. It’s quiet now, save the low hum of two voices—one of them is unmistakably Kirei. It’s hard not to make noise with the drag of his left leg, but Kariya doesn’t care. If it’s an emergency, he can afford to be a little noisy.

_Noisy… speaking of, why isn’t it noisy?_ Kariya wonders as he nears the study. Wouldn’t Archer be making more noise, if he was attacking? His fighting style tends to lean more destructive than subtle. As he draws closer, he can hear more of what’s going on; Archer’s voice, lower than usual. And the sound of… panting?

Kariya stops just before he reaches the door. Oh no. It couldn’t be, right? No, no, of course not. Archer was probably just torturing Kirei, that’s got to be it, right? _But what if it isn’t?_ Kariya groans, wiping his hand over his face. If he leaves without peeking, he’s sure he’s going to start _imagining_ things, and the worms will take full advantage of that.

_Fuck it,_ Kariya gives up, grabbing the knob and turning. _Best case, they’re fucking. Worst case, Kirei’s dying. Might as well just confirm either or._

The door swings in, and there it is. Kirei is bent over the front of his desk, face pressed against his arms, pants caught around his knees; Archer is positioned behind him, hands braced against his hips, his cock halfway buried inside Kirei.

Gilgamesh glances at Kariya, not even stopping mid-thrust. Kirei’s head turns, his eyes glossy, flushed up to his ears. He twitches against the desk, obviously shocked, but caught between that and Gilgamesh working him relentlessly. He tries opening his mouth to say something, only for a deep rumble to fall past his lips, eyes rolling back in his head as Gilgamesh pins him with a particularly hard thrust.

“Ah,” Kariya’s voice wheezes out of him. His hand shakes against the knob. “I’ll. Come back later. Sorry.”

He slowly shuts the door. And he limps back down the hall to the bedroom, his ears ringing.

 

* * *

 

Kirei nearly bites clear through the inside of his cheek, shuddering as Gilgamesh pulls his cock out of him, leaving only the head inside him. “You,” he growls, indignant. “Left the door unlocked… on purpose… Archer— _mmgh._ ”

“Did I? Ah,” Gilgamesh slams back into Kirei, dragging a shout out of him. Kirei can hear the grin in his voice, clearly relishing in just how debauched he’s left him. “That’s right, it must have slipped my mind. You are rather distracting, you know? I couldn’t wait any longer.”

Glaring at him over his shoulder, Kirei purses his lips against any further noise that threatens to leave him. He knows that Gilgamesh is being arrhythmic on purpose, keeping the pace unpredictable in an attempt to loosen Kirei’s lips. He likes hearing Kirei’s voice, but Kirei doesn’t want to make it that easy for him. It’s enough that he’s in this position in the first place, knees quaking, hands scrabbling for purchase against rumpled papers on his desk. Having Gilgamesh seeing him like this is enough. But now…

Gilgamesh weaves his fingers through Kirei’s hair, taking a fistful of it and pulling hard. Kirei’s neck arcs, the sudden force wrenching a grunt from him. “You didn’t want that mongrel to see you like that, did you? Is that what you’re thinking? Ah… but you can’t fool me, Kirei. Just look,” Gilgamesh thrusts his hips slowly, pressing in deep. Kirei shudders, accidentally letting out half of a moan. His other hand snakes around Kirei’s hip, taking hold of his aching, dripping cock. Gilgamesh leans over Kirei’s back, his lips tickling Kirei’s ear as he whispers. “Look at how wet you’ve gotten. I’ve hardly even touched you down here.”

Squeezing his eyes shut, Kirei feels a wave of heat wash over him. Livid he may be, he can’t argue the truth. His hips twitch, cock pulsing in Gilgamesh’s hand. He doesn’t bother anymore—pride be damned, he’s overheating, he needs more _now._ “Archer—un… _ngh._ Hurry… _hurry.”_

Letting out an appreciative hum, Gilgamesh bites the shell of Kirei’s ear. He draws back slowly, driving back in just as slowly, only to snap his hips into a faster pace without warning. “How impertinent of you, Kirei. Are you that desperate? Is having my cock inside you truly too much? I can hardly blame you. There are very few in this world that can handle me. Though… _mm_ _n_ _,_ I may feel more compelled to show you mercy if you… _beg.”_

“Damn you—ghh,” Kirei grits his teeth, huffing through his nose. He tries pushing back on Gilgamesh’s hips, trying to wrest some kind of control for himself, only to find Gilgamesh’s hand back on his hipbone. Off of his cock, which strains hot and heavy between his legs. “You would—humiliate me so— _damn it_ , just—aaahh, hah, _Archer—”_

A boisterous laugh cuts out of Gilgamesh at this show. His laugh trails off into something warmer, a low moan from deep in his chest. “So _stubborn.”_

Kirei sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, his breath stuttering out of him with each thrust. Gilgamesh isn’t giving him any time to catch it, pressing his cock in deep, rubbing insistently against his prostate. He wants Kirei to cum before he does, without even having to touch him—having him cum on his cock alone… it would humiliate Kirei, with how _easy_ it would be for him just to let go, to give in and let himself go—but it would be more than enough to bring the King of Heroes over the edge, he’s sure.

Finally parting his lips, Kirei lets out a deep, rumbling moan. He clenches around Gilgamesh’s cock, letting loose just a bit of his own control, giving Gilgamesh that much more power over him in this moment. Gilgamesh notices this and hums again, almost a moan, as he shifts his rhythm into something that will bring him off. Deep, slow thrusts, pressing in hard against him.

“Hngh,” Kirei all but snarls, feeling his orgasm creeping up on him. “Archer—”

“Do it,” Gilgamesh orders, pulling his head back so that his lips are pressed further against his ear. “Cum for me.”

And he does, his hips stuttering forward against the front of his desk, sullying the aged wood with his release. Gilgamesh lets go of his head, letting Kirei bury his face back into his arms, taking both of Kirei’s hips in his hands as he pounds into him. Even his moans are framed around a smile, air hissing out around his smirking lips as he finishes inside Kirei, pinning his hips to his ass so that none of it slips out.

Kirei closes his eyes and sighs, letting out the air of ten men. It takes him a moment to remember his own name, and a few moments longer to remember Kariya is most likely very, very confused. Perhaps not _too_ confused—Archer was hardly subtle, when Kariya was in the room with them earlier—but still.

“You always insist on making a mess whenever this happens,” Kirei pushes himself up, his voice dry. Gilgamesh is still pinning him to the desk, but he can feel the telltale twinge of pain collecting in the base of his spine the longer he stays bent over. “I am beginning to wonder if that is your true end goal in these meetings of ours, Archer.”

Gilgamesh lets out a long, lilting sigh before he pulls out without warning. Kirei winces, feeling himself clench around nothing with the sudden absence of something inside him. It’s quickly replaced by the feeling of cum leaking from him, a sensation that Kirei can’t grow accustomed to. Behind him, Gilgamesh casually tucks himself away and does his pants back up, wiping his hands against the back of Kirei’s shirt.

“It isn’t without its charms,” he says, strolling back over to the couch and dropping onto the cushions. He’s loose-limbed and relaxed, grinning at Kirei like a smug cat. “Making a mess of you, a man that’s normally so stiff and prim, is very, _very_ entertaining. You’re so stubborn in the face of pleasure, watching it overtake you… I don’t think I’ll ever tire of it.”

Kirei huffs, reaching over his desk to root around in the drawers, hoping to find a pack of tissues before Gilgamesh’s release drips from him onto the carpet. “I would not say I am usually _prim_ in any sense, Archer. Being used in such a way would cause anyone to lose their composure.”

“ _Used,_ he says,” Gilgamesh, pouring himself a glass of wine, gives a heavy sigh this time. “Kirei, you really need to rethink your definition of sex, if that’s what you think I did. You certainly didn’t seem to mind when I first pushed you against the wall, after all.”

Cleaning himself up, Kirei casts a glance towards Gilgamesh over his shoulder. He takes note of how openly Gilgamesh is leering at him, finding that it doesn’t bother him. “I did not mind that.”

“Then why are you so cross, Kirei?”

Kirei pauses, tossing the dirtied tissue aside before grabbing another, wiping at the backs of his thighs now. “You did not lock the door.”

Gilgamesh tilts his head, taking a sip of wine before answering. “Wasn’t it more fun that way?”

“ _What_ way?” Kirei bends down to pull his pants back up, zipping his fly and fastening the buttons. Knowing that Gilgamesh wiped his hands clean on his shirt, Kirei unzips it and shrugs out of the sleeves, bunching it up and setting it aside. He hasn’t started the laundry yet, but considering the way things were going today, he’s rather certain that he’ll have a bigger load than usual. “I fail to see how being walked in on is fun.”

“Come now, Kirei. It’s unbecoming to lie to me, not to mention _yourself,_ _”_ Gilgamesh points straight at Kirei now with the hand holding his wine, only extending the index finger. “You got far more excited when Kariya walked in. I could tell, for one, because of how hard you clamped around me.”

Kirei wrinkles his nose. “Must you phrase it in such a vulgar manner…”

“And that’s not all,” Gilgamesh presses on, ignoring him. “I could feel your entire _body_ react to it. You went stiff, but then started to shiver near-violently. You were also more vocal, telling me to _hurry up._ Which is rather disrespectful, in any other case, but when you’re _under_ me… hmm, I suppose it’s all right. That side of you is almost cute.”

Kirei crosses his arms over his chest, sitting back on his desk. “You’re rambling, King of Heroes.”

“In any case,” Gilgamesh dips his head now, lips parting in a smile. “You derived enjoyment from it. I never would have thought you to be an exhibitionist, Kirei.”

“I am not. I can confirm that much for you right now,” Kirei grimaces. It isn’t a lie—he can’t find himself enjoying being walked in on by someone, nor can he find any sort of appeal in having sex out in the open. “I can’t say that I would enjoy engaging in those sorts of activities with you in public.”

Gilgamesh lets out a hum. He takes a long, deep sip of his wine, making a noise in the back of his throat halfway through, as if he’s just realized something. “Perhaps something else is at work here, then. You don’t suppose it has to do with Kariya himself, do you?”

Kirei raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said,” Gilgamesh sets his wine glass down, grabbing the bottle to refill. “You’ve had an unconscious fixation on him for some time now, haven’t you? And now that you’ve acted on it, new things are coming to light, at least when _he_ is concerned. Perhaps, unconsciously, you enjoyed having him see you so prone.”

Furrowing his brows, Kirei remains silent. He can’t exactly dispute that—back in the bathroom, when Kariya was grinding on him, Kirei can’t deny that he had lost his head slightly in the excitement. Having the disgraced Matou on him in such a way, his weight bearing down on him, coming completely and utterly undone because of _him…_ he hadn’t intended on doing anything, if Kariya’s lust overwhelmed him again, but he had touched him back. He’d agreed to letting Kariya use him, agreed to bringing him further off by saying his name, whispering it in near reverent tones into his ear.

But _why?_ He could clearly tell that being in such a state was edging close to agony for Kariya— _ah._

That must be it, then. Kariya’s forceful arousal rarely seems pleasant. It’s so intense, so sudden and overwhelming, Kariya’s moans sounded just a bit pained, as if he was more excited for the end of it than he was for the process.

For a split second, Kirei can picture Kariya, spread out beneath him, red down to his chest and tears rolling down his face in his mind’s eye. Kariya’s voice, breaking over a sob, begging him to hurry, to make it all stop, to bring him off so that he could feel _anything._ And Kirei would toy with him, drag it out, control when and how he would make Kariya come undone.

“Perhaps you have a point, Archer.” Kirei pushes away from the desk, headed for the door.

Gilgamesh grins, reclining on the couch. “Off to check on the mongrel, then?”

“Indeed,” Kirei says, feeling just a hint of a smile tugging at his own lips. “He’s sure to be desiring answers, after all.”

_That, and more._

 

* * *

 

Kariya lays flat on his back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. His blood is pounding in his ears, lesions pulsing along his face, neck, and chest. The worms are already working him back up, and it’s hardly even been—how long ago was it? An hour? Maybe less? Though, to be fair, he’d like to see _anyone_ witness something like that and _not_ get a little hot under the collar. But he isn’t going to let himself run wild this time, not when he’s already made an ass of himself _twice_ in this church.

_Technically you’re in the rectory,_ the heated part of his brain pipes up. _So God won’t mind, right?_

“Stop,” he says out loud, turning onto his left side. He clutches at his borrowed robe, trying to even out his increasingly rapid breathing. “For _fuck’s_ sake, control yourself, _control_ yourself, control—ngh.”

He should be angry. Kirei told him that they had the same goals when it came to Tokiomi, and yet he’s letting himself get fucked by Tokiomi’s Servant? And he seemed to be _enjoying_ it? Kariya finds it hard to dispute that the priest looked far more lively while getting dicked down, with color flooding his usual stony face and a more defined wrinkle in his brow…

_So he does swing that way,_ Kariya’s useless worm-infested brain presses. _Or he swings both ways. Either way, that’s lucky for you, isn’t it? Maybe if you’re nice enough to him, helpful enough to him, he’ll do the same to you._

Kariya groans, feeling his cock throb between his clenched legs. It’s hot, too hot, but Kariya refuses to take his robe off— _his robe, Kirei’s robe, he’s worn this before—_

_That’s right…_ The quieter, more rational part of his brain is starting to melt down too, though less out of lust and more out of lonesome sentimentality—which is worse, in a way. He slides his hand up his chest, bunching the silken fabric in his fist and bringing it up to his face. _He’s lending me this… it has to be his, right? One that he’s used before…_

Thinking back to their moment in the bathroom, Kariya recalls that, under the scent of old wood and wine, Kirei smells of faintly of spices. However, this robe gives off a natural, faint musk of skin and soap. It’s raw and _real,_ and imagining Kirei wearing this… it’s intimate, so much so that it’s suffocating.

It’s not new for Kariya to imagine these sorts of things; during his trips, in between jobs, he’d think about what it would be like to be with Aoi. Waking up next to her, watching her get ready for the day, helping her around the house… he’d end up feeling lonelier afterward, but he couldn’t help himself. Now, though, he has something in his hands, something real.

A broken whimper leaves him as he reaches down between his legs, parting the folds of his robe to pull his cock out. He barely knows this man, but just the whisper of potential intimacy is enough for him; it’s even less likely to happen with Kirei than it is with Aoi, but that doesn’t matter to him. He’s thinking further on it now.

What would Kirei look like wearing this? He hasn’t seen Kirei without that high-collared shirt—the low dip of the robe would show off his collarbones, his chest, and the barest hint of his navel. He was clearly in good shape, if not muscular. The realization that Kariya wouldn’t mind seeing him naked causes him to twitch, his cock oozing precum.

He can still hear Kirei’s voice, whispering his name against his ear. His voice is so deep and rich, just thinking about it is riling Kariya up further. What if he said more than just his name? What if he said something sweet, something hot? Commenting on his body, on how much of a mess he’s making, but with a fond tone in his voice, like _I can’t leave you alone for even a second, can I? Kariya._

“Kirei-san,” he mutters, his hand moving faster and faster, his grip slick with precum. “Ah, _ahh,_ Kirei-san—”

“Your stamina is quite something, Kariya.”

Kariya stops, hand clamped almost painfully around the head of his cock. His back was facing the door. _Why did he do that? Why wasn’t he listening for footsteps? Why didn’t he lock the goddamn door? Stupid, stupid, stupid—_ Kariya slowly looks over his hunched shoulder, knowing his face must be several more shades of red than it had been before.

There the priest stands in the doorway. His long sleeved shirt is gone, a tight black undershirt in its place, tucked into his high waisted pants. It isn’t him naked, but seeing him with even one less layer makes Kariya’s cock throb in his hand. He starts stroking again without realizing it.

“Ki… Kirei-san… I.” Kariya can’t move, save his hand, which seems to have its own agenda now. His breath shudders, soft moans starting to leak out the longer he stares at Kirei. “I’m…”

Kirei shuts the door behind him, slowly making his way over to the bed. Kariya can feel his breath quickening with each step he takes, his thoughts racing, incoherent and heated. There’s something different about Kirei right now, as if he’s… amused.

“I see you found the robe I left for you,” Kirei speaks as if Kariya isn’t currently touching himself, furiously in fact, with said robe hiked up and over his hips, most of it bunched around his face. “I trust it is not too spacious for you?”

Opening his mouth, all Kariya can manage is a long whine. Kirei nods, as if this was an acceptable answer.

“Well,” he continues, looking as if he’s about to turn back around. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

Kariya sits up abruptly, his voice desperate as he cries out, “No! Please! I—”

Kirei stops, his head turned away from Kariya. Looking at him from this angle, Kariya can swear his cheeks are somewhat uplifted, as if he’s smiling. And as he turns around, Kariya realizes he _is,_ and it sends another pulse of heat through him, settling heavily in the pit of his stomach.

“Could it be, Kariya,” Kirei says, drawing in closer. His knee dips the bed next to Kariya’s hip. In an unexpected move, Kirei slides his hand along Kariya’s shoulder, up the column of his neck and under his chin. “That you are in need of my help?”

Kariya just about goes limp with relief, his hand working over his cock in earnest now. He nods numbly, unable to speak, wanting nothing more than for Kirei to touch him more. _More, more, all over, please, it hurts, it hurts, I need it, please,_ his thoughts scream, tumbling out of his mouth in the shape of needy moans and helpless whimpers.

A chuckle rumbles from Kirei’s chest, his other hand sliding over Kariya’s thigh. “There’s no helping it, then.”

Kirei leans in, closing his hand over Kariya’s, and presses his lips against his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> will i manage to make it to a chapter that is all plot and no porn. this is doubtful. but we're working up to something, i assure you, my friends


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BIG EMETOPHOBIA WARNING FOR THIS CHAPTER, kariya gets dewormed and it's about what you'd expect (kirei's into it but like, that's par for the course)
> 
> but for real, tread lightly!! it starts right after “Expel as many of those worms as you can,” Kirei orders. “Right here and now.” , and ends when kirei says, "Need you look so angry?", for those who really Do Not want to see it!

Kirei kisses Kariya with a bit more force than needed. Perhaps it’s because he pulls his hand away from his cock, as if Kirei’s touch is scalding hot. He shouldn’t mind as much as he does; with Kariya’s hand out of the equation, it makes stroking him much easier, more controlled. But something violent bubbles in Kirei’s chest, something bombastic, and his instinct begs him to seize Kariya’s hair in his other hand, wrenching his head back to get a better angle.

His tongue pushes past Kariya’s lips. He tastes of blood, primarily—if he tastes of anything else, Kirei can’t tell. It’s the bite of iron that grabs him, compels him to slot their mouths together, wet and obscene and depraved and _right._ Kariya shivers beneath him, his hips working up into Kirei’s hand. But Kirei doesn’t move faster, like he’s insisting he does— _No. Not now. I want to…_

_Want._ That is new. _Wanting._ Is this the sort of want that he has been searching for…? No, that can’t be it. This is too base, only barely scratching the surface, hardly a definitive key to that burning question of his. But it’s _something._ Kirei doesn’t know what it is yet, but he can feel it stirring low in him, waking something buried deep within himself.

He doesn’t feel this way when Archer kisses him. The answer to _that_ question… Kirei will have to press on, see this through. Follow his instincts. _Feel._

His movements sluggish, Kariya moves his hand up, weakly pawing at Kirei’s shoulder. His hand is still slick with precum, slipping against the fabric of his shirt as his fingers curl in against him. _That’s yet another article of clothing of_ _mine_ _that needs washing,_ Kirei mulls, an errant thought that’s forgotten as quickly as it’s formed. Instead of dwelling on that, Kirei leans in further, licking deeper into Kariya’s mouth, rubbing his thumb against the head of Kariya’s cock.

Kissing Claudia, infrequent as it might have been, had never been like this. Kissing Archer, while just as depraved, wasn’t like this either. He was confused still, desperate, grasping at what felt _normal_ with his wife, and with Archer, it’s more often his own mouth being assaulted rather than the other way around. He has so much _control_ here, and Kariya is yielding, a moan— _tainted, pleasured, pained—_ rumbling from the back of his throat.

Kirei parts from Kariya suddenly, feeling something alien, something hot tingle down his spine at the sight of Kariya’s tongue straying out, trying to follow Kirei’s. Huffing through his open mouth, Kirei slides his hand down Kariya’s cock, tightly gripping the base. Kariya whines, squinting, shuffling, but not retreating. He hangs limp in his grasp, prone, begging for more.

“How much can you feel?” Kirei’s voice comes out in a graveled snarl, strange to his own ears. Kariya swallows, the bob of his Adam’s apple near-hypnotic.

“Barely… anything on my left,” Kariya gives, dry and breathless. “Can only feel… on my right…”

His hand slowly releases Kariya’s hair, only to grip at his right shoulder and shove him down. That hand squeezes, trailing down to his partially exposed chest. Kirei smooths the robe aside, thumb brushing against Kariya’s nipple. Kariya wails, his hips bucking up into Kirei’s hand—Kirei can feel his cock pulse, but with his fingers hooked around him, Kariya is no longer in control of his own body.

This is an experiment, of sorts; to see just how ardent Kariya’s pain in this state can be. Will he scream? Cry? Beg for Kirei to finish him off, beg for him to let go?

Will he die, if he is unable to get the release his body is begging for? _That_ thought makes Kirei realize just how much he is sweating, moisture lining his hairline and sliding down the back of his neck, dampening his shirt. His shirt is itching against his skin, his sweat grounding him, reminding him of his place—he is no demigod, no monster, he is _not_ the King of Heroes.

_This is not an experiment,_ Kirei thinks, eyes widening. Shame pricks at his pores, seeping under the skin and into his stomach, turning it and making his blood run cold. _This is a gluttonous indulgence._

Kirei sits back, letting go of Kariya, watching him fall back onto the bed. The weight of the rosary around his neck is unbearable, the string digging harshly into his sweat-slicked skin, the hyper-awareness of his faith bringing forth an unsettling wave of nausea.

_No,_ he thinks, staring down into Kariya’s eyes. Kariya seems too lost in lust to notice that Kirei’s backed away; now that he’s not touching him, he moves back to touching himself, as if possessed—mumbling, _please, please, make it stop, please._ That litany is too sweet to Kirei’s ears, all too aware of the tent in his pants at the sound of it, but he feels nothing but disgust in himself for it.

_This is not what I seek,_ Kirei wipes his clean hand over his forehead. Bits of Kariya’s hair, trapped between his fingers, stick to his dampened forehead. Kariya moans under his breath, eyes glassy, legs twitching, pulling Kirei’s robe back up to his nose before continuing to touch himself.

“Kirei-san,” he slurs, his voice breaking over a sob. Kirei doesn’t know how he didn’t notice earlier—Kariya has started crying, tears leaking from his one good eye. “Kirei—ahh… _hgnn._ Please don’t… leave… _nn.”_

He wants to. Kirei wants nothing more than to get the hell out of here—what had he been thinking, wandering down here, with anything other than an apology and an explanation on his lips? What is _wrong_ with him? But Kariya sounds so pitiful, so needy, Kirei finds his feet rooted to the spot.

Kirei can’t handle much more of this. It’s near-constant, how often those worms work him up to that fever pitch. And now—well now, Kariya is starting to grow _attached,_ within mere hours of being brought here. All it took was an act of mercy, a few words, civility, and that had been it. Kariya is imprinting on him.

Just how many of those insatiable worms are inside Kariya? Is this actually a harm to him—will each orgasm he reaches bring him that much closer to death? Is that what the Matou family is striving for?

Kirei shakes his head. _He will die, and I will have had nothing to do with it._

That thought should be a comfort. And yet, it is anything but.

As Kariya’s hand stutters over himself, as his orgasm grips him, Kirei steps over. He extends his right arm, feeling the command seals burn against his flesh as he reaches for Kariya, whose eye is starting to drift shut. Enough is enough. The Matou family magic is disgusting, and if he can help it, Kirei will eliminate it.

He calls upon the use of six of his command seals to ensure the command’s potency.

“ _Expel as many of those worms as you can,_ ” Kirei orders. _“Right here and now.”_

The magic grips Kariya with no warning. His eye bulges open, his body suddenly wracked with uncontrollable trembling. Blood seeps past the seam in his lips as he claws himself towards Kirei, his gaze wide and accusatory as he pitches over the edge of the bed. The lesions in his body are pulsing violently, forcefully, glowing red as they undulate through his body, through his veins and magic circuits.

Kariya heaves, vomiting straight onto the rug. Blood and bile course past his lips in harsh waves, something solid and _alive_ squirming around in the mixture. He isn’t done, pass after pass forcing more and more of those worms out of his body. Perhaps Kirei should be supporting Kariya, placing a hand on his back and patting, but… he can’t bring himself to move. He’s oddly captivated, watching the roll of Kariya’s spine, listening to his groans of agony, gurgling beneath the scrape of bile and blood against his teeth and throat.

The worms he’s expelling are wriggling against the rug. Kirei pulls out his black keys and impales them on the spot, producing more as more appear. Kariya screams through another wave, a particularly large worm squeezing past his lips and landing on the floor. It’s faster than the others, already trying to crawl back up the bed, trying to get back into Kariya’s mouth. Kirei is faster, launching a black key into its back and pinning it in place. It thrashes, squeaks, and dies there.

Soon enough, Kariya stops, blood and vomit dribbling down his chin, his borrowed robe slipping down over his left side. He braces his hand against the bed frame, pushing himself up to glare at Kirei. He doesn’t speak—he probably can’t, with the state his throat must be in. Kirei notices that most of the lesions in Kariya’s neck and shoulder are looser than usual, not taut and occupied. There’s still substance there, but it’s far less prominent.

“Need you look so angry?” Kirei’s mouth moves on its own, his ears ringing. “Those worms were the source of your problem, were they not?”

Kariya spits at the ground, his voice cracked as he forces it out. “… you shouldn’t have done that. Those worms… they—I can’t use magic properly if they’re—”

“The command shouldn’t have interfered with your magic circuits,” Kirei cuts him off, taking a knee to further inspect the mess on the rug. It’s a sickening sight, the smell of it burning Kirei’s nostrils. _Good thing this is father’s old room,_ Kirei can’t help but think. “Though I am still not clear on the specific methods in which these creatures are meant to augment your magical abilities.”

Blinking at him, Kariya stares down at his own body, right brow furrowing tightly. “I can still feel at least one or two inside me. Those must be the ones that…”

“The ones that… what?” Kirei can’t stop himself from prying. This entire ordeal, forcibly removing most of the worms in Kariya’s body—he would be lying if he said the outcome did not intrigue him, at least a little.

But Kariya shakes his head, refusing to elaborate. He tips his face down, away from Kirei. “Anyway, that was a stupid move. Why would you do that? The damage is already done, I… I’m going to die soon, it doesn’t matter if there are two worms inside me or two _thousand._ You’re just delaying the inevitable.”

He has a point. Kirei furrows his brow, fully analyzing the depth of his impulsive actions. He’s wasted six of the command seals his father gave him, he’s prolonged the miserable existence of Matou Kariya—likely drawing the ire of the Matou clan, who _must_ be seeking Kariya’s death moreso than victory, if this is what they call a usable pawn for this Grail War—and he’s made it so that Kariya, who has minimal control over his Berserker, has even _less_ magical clout to use to control his Servant.

All because… why?

_You wanted him to stop,_ his reason tells him. _You showed him the barest hint of intimacy, and he latched onto it. You didn’t want it to go any further._

That much is true. The idea of having someone develop feelings for him, misguided and hollow as they may be, so soon after Claudia made Kirei sick to his stomach. No one has understood him since her, and no one will. He knows this, holds it to be true in his heart.

She knew him better than he knew himself, and even then, she still knew so, so little. But the longer he thinks about her, the worse he feels. He wasn’t able to kill her, himself—he wasn’t able to give her the death that he wanted for her. She deserved something grander, something suiting the suffering that she had endured till that point. He wanted it for her, and wanted to do it _to_ her.

Is that love? No. Kirei doesn’t know what that feels like. He doesn’t.

_I don’t,_ he reaffirms to himself, the ice in his veins thawing slowly. _She thought that I did. She was wrong, wasn’t she? If she was wrong, then why…_

“You may be right,” Kirei finally says, closing his eyes. “It is a pointless endeavor, ridding you of the worms that did you more harm than good.”

What more can he say? Kariya won’t be satisfied no matter what answer he gives him. The truth is out of the question, because Kirei really _isn’t_ sure why he went out of his way to tack on a few more weeks at best to Kariya’s lifespan. He’s been running on instinct and impulse ever since picking him up, and as of right now, he has no real explanation for any of it.

“ _All this,”_ the voice of Gilgamesh chants in his head once more, a constant reminder. _“Due to your unconscious interest in him.”_

_Interest._ There’s been so, so little about this war that’s intrigued him. Emiya Kiritsugu is one, and Matou Kariya is the other—that makes two, three if he counted the Einzbern homunculus, which he doesn’t. That is merely the fascination one has with a particularly rare insect. As for Emiya, he can’t quite put it into words; he wants nothing more than to find him, to fight him, to kill him, _to find out if they truly are one in the same._

But with Kariya, it’s less clear. He doesn’t want to admit that it’s his circumstances being as tragic as they are, that it’s the constant pained furrow in his brow, the tenseness in his jaw, the fact that he’s so blinded by his own selfishness that, at the end of it all, he would need to confront just how twisted and illogical his heart is—Kirei doesn’t want to admit he wants to watch him fall, wants to be the one to push him. Wants to be the one to pick him back up, dust him off, only to push him further from behind.

No. It had to be something else about Matou Kariya that pulled him in. It _had_ to be. And he wouldn’t find that out unless he kept him alive long enough to seek out that answer.

“It would be pointless,” Kirei continues, moving around the bed and taking a knee, rolling the rug up, making a mental note to burn it later. “If I did not continue to heal you.”

The look that Kariya gives him sets his blood racing all over again. The disgraced Matou lifts his misty eyes to Kirei, his lips parted slightly around a confused murmur, his throat constricting around any and all sound he produces. His brows twitch, furrowing and relaxing, pinching up—he’s dumbfounded, but beneath that, there’s hope in those eyes. Fear, loneliness, hope, desperate, desperate hope…

He shouldn’t delude Kariya any further than he’s already deluded himself. But Kirei finds himself unable to stop himself.

“You are no good to anyone dead,” Kirei says, wiping his hands on the underside of the rug once he’s rolled it up. “Not those you are fighting for, and…” _Not to me,_ he wants to add, but he bites it back. Kariya can see him do it, he _knows_ he sees it. Instead, he adds, “Not to yourself. You need not blindly accept the death sentence that those worms plagued you with.”

As if he had been holding the weight of the world on his shoulders, Kariya slumps where he sits, only barely remembering to keep himself upright by bracing his good hand against the bed. He blinks, his one good eye blurring with tears. Kariya huffs, his mouth curling up into a smile, as broken as the rest of him. He laughs, relief so potent that it seems to be _hurting_ him.

“That’s… hah… you,” Kariya’s voice is tight, pulled taut over the disbelief he can’t shake. “You don’t make any sense, priest, you really don’t. You hardly even know me, and you’re saying stuff like that—you’ve seen what kind of person I really am, I haven’t bothered hiding it, and you’d… you’d say that? To _me?_ _”_

Kirei feels himself smile. He doesn’t know what it looks like. “Of course. It is the truth.”

And it is. But not the entire truth. Perhaps Kariya will know it at some point, that Kirei stands to gain more if he lives—but seeing this man fall to pieces over being told, point blank, that he is better off alive…

Kirei doesn’t want him to know that much just yet, if only to keep this image with him, burned into his heart.

 

* * *

 

_This is just fantastic,_ Kariya clenches his jaw, more than a little sure that this entire bizarre exchange— _first we make out, get closer to having sex, like_ actual _sex, and then it gets kind of blurry until I start puking most of my guts and worms out, and now I’m crying because this is positive attention and that’s_ foreign _to me now—_ has left him feeling quite a few shades of disgusted. Disgust at himself, mostly.

He’s always been quick to emotion, even as an adult. It makes him feel juvenile, stupid, weak— _weak, pathetic and wretched._ Zouken didn’t help in that regard, that was for damn sure, and neither did Byakuya, who was even more of a crybaby than _he_ was, but was different in that he only cared about himself. Kariya cares about others _too_ much, cares with every fiber in his being, to the point that it _hurts,_ all of it—and no matter how many times he gets hurt by his own vulnerability, he’d always wear his heart on his sleeve.

Aoi seemed to like that about him. _Seemed._

Kariya shakes his head, _don’t think about her_ now _of all times, you’ll only become more of a mess for the priest to clean up._ And that’s the other thing—the priest. Kariya hasn’t been able to tell what he’s been thinking since the moment he met him, but now, it’s even more impossible. He sounded sincere, _looked_ as sincere as anybody could with eyes like his, and, in spite of his confusion, he _did_ manage to get most of the crest worms out of him. Kariya would be lying if he said that he hasn’t felt this painless in… well, since that first night before the worm pit.

_There’s still one or two in there,_ he thinks, _Trying to merge with my magic circuits. I don’t even know if they_ can _be removed, but…_

At least those aren’t the ones eating him alive. He knows one is there to augment his magic, but the other one he’s not so sure about. _Please, please god, please don’t let it be a lust worm._ He can’t remember how many of those were inside him— _too_ many, enough to make it damn near impossible to function on a day-to-day basis. If there’s just one, at least those bouts of lust will be less frequent. Not entirely gone, but well, he can’t win.

“Do you need a moment alone?” Kirei’s voice brings him out of his own head. He bends over to grab the rug— _now ruined by blood and worms, nice going, Kariya—_ to heft it up. “I need to burn this, and then I need to pick up Tokiomi—”

It’s like something gets switched on in his head, whenever Tokiomi is brought up. Scrubbing at his eyes, Kariya snaps his head back up. “What the hell are you picking _him_ up for?”

Kirei stalls, staring down at Kariya with the rolled-up rug slung over his shoulder. “He has scheduled a meeting with the Einzberns here, tonight. Seeing as how my father has been killed, he is beginning to panic.”

Kariya blinks at that— _Tokiomi, of all people, in a panic?_ He finds it hard to believe. But he doesn’t interrupt, listening as Kirei goes on.

“His careful planning for the progression of this war relied on my father being alive. Now that he has died, he has decided a change in plans is necessary. It seems that, without the power of Kotomine Risei at his side, he is far more uneasy about the upcoming confrontations with both Rider… and Berserker.”

_Serves that arrogant asshole right,_ Kariya grits his teeth. _Damn right you should be uneasy, prick._

“So,” Kariya speaks slowly. “You’re going to bring him here. You don’t expect me to just sit in a closet or something and hide from him, do you? I’m not going to hide if he’s basically coming to _me—_ ”

“No,” Kirei cuts him off, coldly and simply. “You cannot attack him while the Einzberns are there.”

“And why the hell not?!” Kariya sits up on his heels, finally able to _feel_ anger without the torturous bite of pain—but he winces all the same, his throat burning against the heightened volume of his voice. “What the hell do the Einzberns matter? I’ll take them down, too. I’ll kill them, and then I’ll kill Rider, and then—”

This time, Kariya is cut off by the loud, squelching thud of the rug hitting the floor. Kirei moves closer, standing over him, _lording_ over him, with those calculating, lifeless eyes of his. “You are in no shape to call on Berserker. You are still recovering from Tokiomi’s attack, not to mention the loss of most of those worms that have been sustaining your magic circuits. Summoning Berserker to fight against both Archer and Saber would be suicide. As I said earlier, _you are no good to anyone dead, Kariya.”_

Mercilessly, Kirei repeats those words. Kariya feels his heart squeeze in his chest, warmth budding behind his eye, tears threatening to form all over again. It shakes him to his core yet again, and Kariya can’t bring himself to argue with it, lest his voice break on a sob.

“If you want Tokiomi dead,” Kirei straightens up, his eyes still pinning Kariya in place. “You will wait until the Einzberns are gone. This meeting should bear little fruit, if Tokiomi is seeking out another alliance. Therefore… the Einzberns will refuse him, leave, and then—and _only_ then, will you be able to exact your fury upon him.”

Kariya’s throat bobs with the gulp he takes. It’s taking form, his second chance to finally kill Tokiomi is once again tangible, within his grasp. The magic in him is weak still, his mana reserves damn near dry. _I don’t need magic to kill him,_ Kariya clenches his hand into a fist. _I… I’ll find a way._

“How will I know when the Einzberns leave, then?” Kariya lifts his eyes to Kirei, feeling a bit less confrontational with the priest. “The only ones that know I’m here are you and that Archer, right? You want me to just… hide?”

Kirei shakes his head. “Nothing so juvenile. You need only wait in my study. The walls here carry sound quite well, you see. You will be able to hear everything that goes on during the meeting, and no one will be any the wiser,” Without warning, Kirei leans in again, entering Kariya’s personal space, lifting a finger to his own lips in a _hush_ motion. “So long as you keep quiet.”

Kariya can smell spices on his breath, and he feels himself grow dizzy. He shudders. “Yeah, I can do that. You think I can’t?”

“Considering the volume your voice has reached thus far during your stay here,” Kirei backs up, looking down on him with a strange expression. “You must understand my concerns, Kariya.”

Though it’s not as powerful a reaction as the previous ones, Kariya feels his cheeks burn. Did he just accuse him of being a screamer? _Is it much of an accusation if it’s true?_ Groaning, he covers his face with his good hand. “ _Please_ don’t phrase it like that, oh my god.”

The priest turns away at that, but Kariya can swear that there’s a hint of a smile on Kirei’s face. He moves to pick the rug back up, talking over his shoulder as he heads towards the door. “Get some rest for now, Kariya. Perhaps not in this room… can you walk?”

Huffing through his nose, Kariya moves to stand. He stumbles, but this time, he doesn’t fall—he’s on one good shaky leg and one dead one, but by god if he’s going to let himself get babied again by this man. Kirei raises an eyebrow at the frown Kariya levels him with, but says nothing else, jerking his head in a motion for Kariya to follow him.

Back into the drafty hallway of the rectory, then. Kariya bunches his borrowed robe around himself and limps after him, keeping his eyes on Kirei’s heels. It’s not as if he’s trying not to look at his back or the way that t-shirt stretches over the lines in his shoulder blades and the way the sleeves cling to his biceps and _the Holy Church turned this guy into a hunk for what reason, now—_

Kariya shakes his head, forcing his eyes back down. He had thought that, with the loss of most of the worms, his head would be a little clearer. In a way, it _almost_ is; he’s getting distracted, yes, but it’s not bringing his blood to heat like it usually would’ve by this point.

_But I was just throwing myself at this guy because it was convenient for me,_ Kariya reasons with himself. _He’s not hard to look at, he doesn’t seem to mind the fact that I, too, am a guy, and that I’ve been dogging him ever since he picked me up, but that’s it. It was the worms. It should be over now, shouldn’t it?_

It should. Matou Kariya, who’s only had maybe one or two, maybe three instances where he was curious about other men, should not be ogling the man that saved his life. Or is he really that pathetic and lonely that he’d cling to the first not-terrible contact he’s had with another human being for the first time in weeks?

Blinking, Kariya realizes he’s been staring at Kirei’s ass this entire time he’s been reaming himself out. _Pathetic and lonely it is, then._

“These are my quarters,” Kirei says, snapping Kariya out of his daze. Kariya quickly shifts his eyes away from Kirei’s ass and up to his face, hoping and praying that the priest hadn’t noticed that he’d been staring at him like he’s a piece of meat. “It is not as spacious as the last room. But it should suffice, for the time being. You are free to borrow any of the clothes in there, while I wash yours.”

“Uh, you sure?” Kariya says, his right hand squeezing his left arm. He doesn’t like the way his chest tightens, thinking about wearing _more_ of this guy’s clothes. “I, uh. Don’t think you have anything that’ll fit me.”

“Indeed,” Kirei turns the knob, opening the door for him. “But there should be at least one pair of pants in there that are old enough to fit you. If not, I have belts.”

Pursing his lips, Kariya turns his head down and shuffles into the bedroom, hoping that Kirei doesn’t see his flushed face. “Fair enough.”

Looking into the cramped space, Kariya balks—Kirei really wasn’t kidding. This room is about a fourth the size of the other one, barely constituting as a bedroom with the single full-size bed, plain oak dresser, small bookshelf, and shabby old armchair. There’s one window, with pitch black curtains covering it.

“It’s…” Kariya tries coming up with a nice word for it. “Cozy.”

Kirei arches his eyebrow at him. Before Kariya can further embarrass himself, Kirei says, “Try to get some sleep. It will be a few hours before the meeting begins. Be sure to be in my study before midnight.”

“Uh,” Kariya turns to look back at Kirei, swallowing around the lump in his throat. “Yeah, sure.”

The priest stands there for a few moments more, just staring at Kariya. Though it doesn’t rile him up like it did before, Kariya can still feel his skin prickling the longer those eyes are on him. It’s as if he wants to say something; his gaze seems to soften, but before Kariya can look closer, Kirei is shutting the door.

Groaning under his breath, Kariya runs a hand through his hair. “Shit, was he waiting for a thank-you? Shit. Maybe it’s—”

Operating on impulse, Kariya lunges for the door, swinging it in and poking his head out. Kirei’s already halfway down the hall. _Shit—it’s now or never, Kariya._

“Uh,” he calls out. Kirei stops, looking over his shoulder at Kariya. Before he can get a word out, Kariya says in an earnest tone, “Thank you, Kirei-san.”

Kirei’s eyes widen. He turns his head away quickly, clearing his throat. “You are welcome, Kariya. Get some rest.”

Strangely, hearing that makes Kariya feel even worse. He hurriedly shuts the door and leans back against it, trying to will his pulse to slow down. What the hell is this? This is too weird for Kariya to think about at length.

“Just get some rest,” Kariya tells himself. He pushes away from the door, limping towards the bed and pulling the covers aside. “Don’t think about it, it’s nothing.”

Kariya sits down heavily on the mattress. It’s soft, at least—Kariya isn’t sure why he was expecting it to be anything but. Fitting his right hand under his left knee, he shifts his bad side under the covers, scooting into the middle and pulling the blankets and the feathery down cover up around his chin.

He stares at the ceiling, surrounded by softness and warmth. Kariya feels… comfortable. How long has it been since he’s felt _comfortable?_ He can hardly remember, and the longer he lays here, the harder it gets for him to keep his eyes open.

Sighing heavily, Kariya glances at the door. He wonders if Kirei really doesn’t mind letting him use his bed, rather than the guest bed. Then again, he doesn’t want to be anywhere else at the moment. He can admit that much to himself.

Kariya lets his eye slide shut. _I’ve never slept in someone else’s bed before,_ he realizes groggily, feeling himself relax fully. _Not even Aoi’s._

He finds himself not caring, at least not now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> get ready for tokiomi's first formal appearance in this fic! ................................................................ and his LAST, PROBABLY, DEPENDS


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so tokiomi dies NEXT chapter, please look forward to it

When Kariya sleeps, he does not remember his dream. The most he can recall is the sensation of soft hair pressed against his cheek, of a tongue against his neck, and teeth sinking into his flesh.

He groggily opens his eyes, head filled with fog; he hasn’t slept that heavily or soundly for some time. For a few good, long moments, Kariya doesn’t remember where he is, or how much time has passed. All that matters is how soft the mattress is beneath his bony back and how fluffed-up and comforting the blankets curled around him are.

_This is even nicer than the beds in that one fancy hotel in Tokyo,_ Kariya blinks slowly, not wanting to get out of bed just yet. _God, how many years ago was that? This, though, this is…_

Kariya isn’t sure what’s different. But he likes it, he knows that much. He wouldn’t mind sleeping for a while longer, but he knows that Kirei must be expecting him. Reluctantly, Kariya pushes the blankets back, sitting up and rubbing at the corner of his right eye. Kirei’s robe slips from his shoulder, pooling around his hips; the sash must have come undone at some point or another.

His bleary eye spots something at the foot of the bed; his underwear. But his turtleneck, track pants and jacket are nowhere to be seen. _I guess that makes sense,_ Kariya reasons, fitting his hand under his bum knee to slide it over the edge of the bed. _There’s probably more blood and dirt caked into those._ _And_ _Kirei’s boxers probably wouldn’t fit me._

“Wearing another guy’s boxers is kinda…” Kariya mutters to himself, swallowing thinly. It’s _intimate._ He’s heard about couples wearing each other’s clothes before, but he isn’t sure if that goes as far as undergarments. But he and the priest are hardly a couple—frankly, Kariya isn’t sure how to classify what he and Kirei are at present. Partners in the Holy Grail War, maybe? Their interests in that regard line up, so that wouldn’t be too far off.

He’s not exactly certain that partners in a war would do the things that they’ve done to one another at this point, but that’s not important.

Letting his borrowed robe slip off him naturally, Kariya grabs his boxer-briefs, turning them over in his hand. They’re clean, almost cleaner than they’ve ever been—they’re warm, too, and neatly pressed. Kariya can feel himself frown, his face heating up at the prospect of having freshly done laundry done by someone that _isn’t_ Aoi. Not that she’s ever done his laundry.

“What’s that guy thinking, spending all that time on another man’s underwear…” Kariya shakes his head, trying not to think about it as he maneuvers his left leg into them. “He didn’t have to go that far.”

But the fact that he _did_ makes Kariya feel strange. Maybe it’s just how Kirei does everything, not even sparing any expense for a complete stranger’s clothes. Thinking of it like that, that Kirei just is this way naturally and isn’t giving Kariya any special treatment, is a bit of a relief.

Just a bit. There may be another part of him that aches at that reasoning, but he quashes it down.

Shoving his right leg into his boxers, Kariya stands up from the bed. Kirei said that Kariya could borrow any of his clothes, but… as he opens one of the drawers in the dresser, he realizes just how _big_ Kirei is. Just pulling out one plain, black collared shirt is enough to cement that fact; where the ends would sit perfectly on Kirei’s abdomen, they trail down past Kariya’s thighs, almost to the midpoint.

“God d—” Kariya stops himself. He’s not a particularly religious person, but he doesn’t want to go around saying _god damn_ inside a _church._ “… no way in hell does he has a pair of pants in here that fit me.”

He doesn’t have many other options. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to get a pair of pants on without help— _as much as the thought infuriates him, what is he, a toddler?—_ but he can at least manage the shirt. If Kirei asks, he’ll just give it to him straight. Kariya’s starting to learn that mincing words with the priest is better than fumbling vaguely.

Sighing through his nose, Kariya shoves his right arm into the sleeve, finding that he has to roll the cuffs up so that his hand can actually make it through. Getting his left arm into the left sleeve is a bit more challenging, but he manages. Buttoning it up is just as difficult, and takes longer than he’d like it to, but soon enough he has all but the top and bottom buttons fastened. As he’d guessed, he’s swimming in it, the ends long enough to make up for the fact that he’s not wearing pants. At least, that’s what he’s hoping.

_Will he even mind?_ Kariya wonders. _He doesn’t seem to care much either way, but still… like hell I’m killing Tokiomi with no pants on._

His stomach clenches a bit at the thought. It’s finally time. He can pay that smug bastard back for Mion River, for trading away his own _daughter_ without even a second thought, for _everything._ All things considered, Kariya finds himself a bit nervous.

The priest said to wait in the study, so that’s what he’ll do. Swallowing around the lump in his throat, Kariya limps towards the door, stepping into the drafty hallway.

 

* * *

 

Kirei turns the key in the ignition, turning the engine off. Tokiomi smiles placidly at him in the passenger’s seat, reaching over to grip and squeeze his shoulder.

“Thank you again for this, Kirei,” he says, his tone earnest. “I still can’t quite get the feel for this thing, myself.”

With a flat tone, Kirei replies, already unbuckling his seat belt and opening the door. “I’m sure it’s far less complicated than most of the devices in your basement, Master.”

Tokiomi laughs, doing much of the same, but with that usual Tohsaka flourish. His cane clacks against the concrete, the jeweled tip gleaming slightly in the cresting moonlight. “You may be right about that. But I still don’t feel very comfortable, nor natural, behind the wheel of such a contraption.”

Kirei can’t disagree. He isn’t certain if Tokiomi even _has_ a driver’s license. Not to say that Kirei had one, either, but he at least knew how to drive. He’s not sure he can say the same for Tokiomi, who has always insisted on Kirei driving him from place to place, if he needed escorting.

His thoughts (or at least, his mild confusion) must be apparent on his face, for Tokiomi laughs at him again. “Don’t look at me like that, Kirei. I know how to use these things, I simply choose not to.”

“My apologies, Master,” Kirei gives, not feeling the least bit sorry about assuming Tokiomi is as archaic as the rest of his lifestyle. “I did not mean any offense.”

There’s a strange softness in Tokiomi’s eyes as he shakes his head, holding his arm out to rest against Kirei’s back, ushering him inside. “It’s quite all right, Kirei. If you’d like, I could drive you around town one of these days, if we have time. Perhaps once we’ve dealt with Rider and Berserker.”

Driving around with Tokiomi at the wheel… sounds too boring to even be deadly.

Instead of refusing, which would cause Tokiomi to pry needlessly into _why ever not,_ and then would devolve into _Kirei, I am a perfectly competent driver,_ Kirei dips his head in a nod, opening the doors of the church for his teacher. “Perhaps, Master.”

It wouldn’t be long after their own arrival that the Einzberns would come. With that in mind, Kirei lets his mind short out; he isn’t interested in these so-called negotiations. He knows that the best outcome is a temporary ceasefire. The Einzbern homunculus would never agree to an alliance, nor would Saber, both for their own reasons. Tokiomi is delusional if he’s hoping for anything more than that.

No, Kirei is far, far more interested in what will happen after the meeting is adjourned. His eyes slide over to Tokiomi before him, who’s been chatting away at him for the last several minutes. Behind him, he can sense Gilgamesh’s presence, leaned against the wall. Kirei is just about ready to clock out completely, at least on a mental level, when Tokiomi says, “It truly is a shame, how the Matou clan has presented itself this time around.”

Kirei opens his eyes, suddenly finding himself much more interested. “Is it?”

“It is,” Tokiomi nods, fingers idly drumming against the head of his cane. “I was under the impression that they would not throw their lot in this time, given the state of affairs. After he had come to me before, I had thought that Zolgen wouldn’t attempt something so unsightly, but… well, you’ve seen him, I take it. The state that Berserker’s Master is in.”

“Zolgen?”

“Ah,” Tokiomi casts a glance towards Kirei over his shoulder, smiling serenely. “The head of the Matou clan. I believe he goes by Zouken now, but Zolgen was his original name. My father always referred to him as such, in any case… I suppose it rubbed off on me.”

That is new information. Assassin had always just referred to the Matou head as _Zouken._ He supposes it doesn’t matter, but it’s rather interesting, the distinction between how the Tohsakas speak of him, and how his own family does. Dipping his head, Kirei tries to ignore the piercing burn of Gilgamesh’s eyes against his back. He swears he can even _feel_ him smiling. “I have caught glimpses of Berserker’s Master, yes.”

It isn’t a _complete_ lie. Tokiomi doesn’t seem to doubt him.

“I used to know him on a more… personal level,” Tokiomi continues, his tone almost wistful. “I knew him before I met my wife—in fact, it was through him that I met her. We were acquainted as children, though I wouldn’t call us friends… I certainly wouldn’t call us friends now, either. But he was… how do I put it… rather passive. Not threatening, in spite of his potential to become a mage. If he’d trained from that age, perhaps he would be more of a threat in this war. But alas… he is still the frail boy he’s always been.”

Kirei casts his eyes down. Kariya had been consistent in his overt distaste for Tokiomi thus far; he had an inkling that Kariya had some past relation to Tohsaka Aoi, but he hadn’t been able to find out much more than that. _This,_ though, is an unexpected surprise—hearing of his teacher’s past with Kariya gives Kirei a bit more context into the nature of their relationship. And yet…

“You sound as if you’re disappointed in that fact, Master.” Kirei points out. He doesn’t ask if he hates him—but the question is lingering on the tip of his tongue. It’s tempting, _very_ tempting to ask, to pry further. But he’s pushing his boundaries as it is.

“Ah… perhaps I am, just a bit,” Tokiomi glances over at Kirei, smiling sadly. He sighs, his shoulders slumping for a mere moment before his rigid posture sets back in. “It isn’t often that I find rival in other mages. And the Matou clan, at least back in their better days, were powerful. To have the opportunity to wage battle against a boy I’ve grown up with… can you imagine anything more exciting? A grand battle for the ages between two of the great families… Kariya had potential, and were it not for his nature, we would have been great adversaries. Maybe even greater allies.”

_But he hates you,_ Kirei almost says. _He hates the very ground you walk upon._ There’s a warm prickling sensation at the base of his spine, and he has to clench his fists to keep himself from twitching.

“I did not mind his presence before now,” Tokiomi continues unprompted. As if he’s unaware that he’s going on a tangent now, sounding oddly more and more sad as he goes on. “My wife remained good friends with him. And my daughters saw him as an uncle… if absolutely nothing else, he is good with children. It really, truly is a shame that he has no respect for the world of mages… I cannot respect a man like that, no matter how close he is to my family. He’s naught but one of the rabble now. It’s such a waste.”

_Kariya should be awake and in the study now,_ Kirei realizes, _He must be hearing all of this._ He hopes he is. All of this can only stoke the flames of rage in Kariya’s heart—Kariya, who hates the mage world, who hates everything that Tokiomi stands for, hearing the lamentations of a man he wants dead.

“I had no idea.” Kirei finds himself muttering. He must sound contrite to Tokiomi’s ignorant ears, for he turns around, putting that hand on his shoulder once again.

“It’s quite all right, Kirei. Don’t sound so down,” he says, tipping his head down with a warm look in his eyes. “It’s beyond any of our control. The best that we can do is meet each obstacle with the proper grace and elegance befitting a mage.”

He couldn’t be more mistaken. He isn’t showing Tokiomi the compassion he _thinks_ he’s showing; with all of this heartache and tragedy before him, Kirei can’t help the heat that brings his blood to a simmer. It disgusts him, in a way—but he can hear Gilgamesh’s words in his mind, _don’t think, feel._ They ring louder with those blazing red eyes burning into his back, that snake’s smile practically searing against the exposed flesh of his neck.

“My apologies,” Kirei says, biting the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from smiling. “Master.”

Tokiomi smiles at him, looking as if there’s more he wants to say. But the sound of a car pulling up outside the church brings him out of it, his touch lingering as he pulls away. He steps back, turning towards the doors.

“They’re here.”

 

* * *

 

Kariya leans back against the door of Kirei’s study. _Tokiomi just never knows when to shut the fuck up._

Talking big like that, like he really _knew_ anything about the Matou family. Like he _knew_ about the difference between Tohsaka magic and Matou magic, like he knew _anything at all._ He always had that habit, just coming to his own conclusions without considering _hey, maybe I need to look more deeply, maybe, just fucking maybe, I shouldn’t be looking at a surface level._

He was fine just _accepting_ Kariya’s nature as a quiet, fragile kid, but he didn’t bother wondering _why,_ because he’d already come up with his own conclusions. And when Kariya ran away from home, he must have figured _ah, it’s because Kariya’s a coward._

It takes all of Kariya’s self control not to start screaming. Grabbing his left wrist, he brings his dead hand up to his mouth and sinks his teeth into the webbing between his thumb and forefinger, huffing through his nose, trying to breathe through the anger. He couldn’t feel the sting of teeth against flesh, not even when he starts tasting blood.

_You never even thought to talk to me,_ Kariya shuts his eye, feeling the burn against the backs of his eyelids. _You never gave a damn about me, you lying prick, don’t try acting like you wanted to be all buddy-buddy when you don’t even_ know—!

Kariya can hear the front doors opening through the walls. He can’t focus, but he can hear three sets of footsteps, and he can feel a violent wrench in his chest as Berserker realizes who it is. Kariya keeps a tight hold on that leash, not letting him take form, using his own rage against Tokiomi to keep Berserker pinned down.

The meeting begins. Tokiomi goes over the introductions, thanks them for coming, and gets down to business. As Kirei predicted, when the woman— _the Einzbern master—_ starts speaking, she sounds curt, not willing to yield to Tokiomi.

His blood boils when he hears Tokiomi mention his family name. He has no love lost for the Matous, but when he calls Kariya _fragile,_ he has to bite harder against his hand to keep himself from growling.

The Einzbern master makes it clear that she won’t accept an alliance. She agrees, at most, to discussing the order in which they deal with the remaining Masters, willing to focus more on those two than on Tokiomi. A conditional, temporary ceasefire…

“We have two conditions. First, that you hand over any and all information regarding Rider and his Master. The second,” the Einzbern Master pauses, as if seething. “Is that Kotomine Kirei must be removed from the Holy Grail war.”

Kariya flinches away from the door, turning around to face it fully before cautiously approaching it again. He hadn’t been expecting something like that—then again, when he thinks about it, he didn’t know _anything_ about Kirei, least of all what he got up to during the war before they formally met. _He must have had it out with the Einzberns then… but it had to have been at Tokiomi’s discretion, right?_

But that isn’t it, evidently. Tokiomi reacts with confusion, if the tone of his voice is anything to go off.

“I’m not suggesting that he be killed,” the Einzbern Master clarifies. “But I must insist that, until this battle is over, that he be expelled from Fuyuki—better yet, from Japan entirely. Immediately, before morning.”

That throws a wrench into things. If Kirei leaves…

His first thought should be regarding the war, _not_ anything like _I’ll be alone, alone again, and I’m pretty sure none of the other Masters will be as willing to partner up with me,_ but that’s what it is. The fact of the matter is that he owes Kirei more than he’d like, and he wouldn’t feel right, just leaving things like this. Kirei must feel the same—or, he should at least not want to leave anything unfinished, as the Overseer.

“Would you explain why?” Tokiomi asks, and Kariya’s focus is back on the conversation.

“There is bad blood between the Einzberns and the Executor. If the Tohsaka team continues protecting him, we will be completely unable to trust you.”

_Why hasn’t Kirei said anything?_ Kariya finds it strange that he isn’t even making an attempt to defend himself. Though he hasn’t pried much into Kirei’s reasons for fighting in this war, Kariya can tell that he’s troubled by something. And that that _something,_ whatever it might be, lies at the end of this war for him. There’s an underlying confusion behind all of Kirei’s actions, and that includes his rescue of Kariya himself. Kirei’s wants, needs, everything—none of it is clear to him, if Kariya’s analyzing this correctly.

Kariya doesn’t know why he was saved, and neither does Kirei. If they make it to the end of this war, they might just find the answer.

But Kirei remains silent. His lack of answer seems to be enough.

The meeting concludes at that, Tokiomi giving his assent regarding Kirei’s departure. The Einzberns leave just as quickly as they came, with only Tokiomi and Kirei remaining in the church. Kariya can’t even force himself to act as they’d planned; this isn’t what they discussed, there’s too many variables now. All Kariya can do is listen now, to see what happens, to see what action Kirei takes next.

“I wish you’d told me about your history with them,” Tokiomi says after a long pause. He sounds genuinely troubled, a tone Kariya isn’t used to hearing from him. “Unfortunately, this leaves me with no choice…”

_Come on, priest,_ Kariya presses against the door. _Say something. What are you thinking?_

“You must withdraw from this war,” Tokiomi continues, uninterrupted. “Kirei.”

 

* * *

 

In the end, Tokiomi leaves without another word. Kirei watches his back as he leaves the church, and he has to tramp down on the urge to send black keys flying into his back, one for each notch of his spine. That sad look in his eyes—just how much of a fool did Tokiomi take him for? He knew that the man was, even in his harsh pragmatism, prone to fits of sentimentality. But Kirei had no idea that it extended to _him,_ of all people.

The silence of the church is drowned out by the incessant ringing in Kirei’s ears. He is being sent away. He will never see Emiya Kiritsugu’s face at this point, nor will he confront him. He won’t be able to reach the Grail, to find out what he wants, what he _really_ wants. All of his struggling, questioning, fighting—all of it will be rendered completely and utterly pointless.

He will be back at square one. Back in the same shoes as the man who’d just lost his wife.

Kirei pinches the bridge of his nose, leaning heavily against the bench. Does he even _want_ to go through with the rest of this war? Maybe it would be better if he played the role of the dutiful student until it felt natural, until he forgot all about this, until Gilgamesh’s voice turned into naught but a whisper in his subconscious.

He is not meant to be understood. He is not meant to ask these questions. If he’d been meant to know these things, the Lord would have answered his many, many fervent prayers, rather than remaining utterly silent to his pleas over the years.

_Yes,_ Kirei, feeling his resolve drain out of him, turns to head to his study. He needs to pack. _I… should just…_

His feet drag, his hand heavy on the knob as he turns it. Normally, this is when he would see Gilgamesh, reclining on the couch—but this time, it’s Kariya, standing right in front of him in the doorway. Kirei flinches in spite of himself, eyes widening at his sudden appearance for a fraction of a second. He’d nearly forgotten that he’d instructed Kariya to wait in his study.

He thought that Kariya would at least be wearing pants. But that’s the least of his concerns at the moment. (Even if it _is_ rather distracting, seeing him in one of _his_ shirts.)

Kariya, for his part, does not flinch in his presence. If anything, he looks firm, looking him up and down with his only working eye. “You’re not just giving up, are you?”

Brows knitting, Kirei looks down, focusing his gaze on Kariya’s exposed clavicle instead of his eyes. He doesn’t answer him, brushing past him carefully to start gathering up his things. Kariya grabs his wrist, halting him—if anything, it’s the action itself that brings Kirei to a stop. Kariya continues to surprise him, it seems.

“You can’t just let Tokiomi order you around like that,” Kariya insists, apparently not afraid of retribution, should Kirei take this brazen behavior personally. “You can’t be all right with this.”

The weight of Kariya’s hand against his wrist likens to that of the rosary around his neck. Insistent, burning, _perplexing._ “You have no idea what I am thinking, Matou Kariya. Do not presume to understand what you cannot fathom.”

“That’s just _it,_ though!” Kariya pulls, turning Kirei back around to face towards him. “You don’t understand anything, either! None of this has made any sense to you, not your role here, not why you wanted to rescue me—”

“What makes you think you have even the slightest clue about me?” Kirei’s tone drops to a growl. “When you, yourself, are just as lost?”

Kariya’s frown deepens. “Don’t turn this around on me! I hit the nail on the head, didn’t I? You’ve been confused about what you’re doing here since day one. You can’t _want_ to leave after all this—you can’t just give up without figuring anything out.”

It’s impossible. He’s pried into him, just the same way that the King of Heroes has. He’s hardly been here for a full day, and he’s already figured out the wretched state of affairs he’s in. Is he that perceptive? Or is it just stubborn nosiness? More likely the latter than the former, but Kirei just doesn’t know anymore.

“Why does it matter?” Kirei presses, his throat dry. He doesn’t like where this is going at all. It was enough when it was just Gilgamesh, but now Kariya, too? “I’m no longer a competing Master. I don’t have a place in this war, even if the Grail beckons to me still. And even if I were to disobey my teacher and reenter the fray, it would only leave you yet another opponent—”

“Then team up with _me_ officially,” Kariya cuts him off. “And if we’re the last ones standing, we can have it out then.”

“But _why?_ _”_ Kirei rips his hand out of Kariya’s grip easily, leaving the other man to stumble briefly before catching himself. “You and I are meant to be enemies, not—”

Kariya’s hand is at his chest now, roughly twining the string of his rosary around his palm and pulling him down to his level. Shocked once again at his sudden unabashed behavior, Kirei allows himself to be tugged, at least for the time being. Kariya stares him in the face, his eye glistening.

“You saved my life, idiot! Isn’t that reason enough?”

_Ah._ It’s a sense of needing to repay his debt, then. Nothing to do with Kirei, himself—though he can’t help but feel apprehensive, with how hard Kariya is trying to understand him. Seeing that he is confused at least puts him a few steps above Tokiomi, though that’s hardly saying much.

“I see,” Kirei puts his hand over Kariya’s, hoping to loosen his grip. “You want to repay me for that. What if I told you that you did not need to? That your being alive is enough payment for me? Would you still be so insistent on my staying?”

If Kariya is just trying to pay him back, that should be enough to throw him off. Or at least get him questioning his own motives. Kirei isn’t sure what he’s going to do, no matter how Kariya responds. But if he doesn’t ask…

Kariya’s eyes soften. His grip on Kirei’s cross doesn’t loosen. Kirei’s almost certain that Kariya isn’t going to answer when his voice picks up, just as soft. “I would. You… you have a reason to seek the Grail, just like me. If you were leaving of your own accord, I wouldn’t be stopping you, but… you shouldn’t give up on something you want for someone else’s selfish agenda.”

It’s not the answer Kirei had been expecting. It gives him pause, his grip on Kariya’s hand faltering. Why on earth does it matter to Kariya so much that he stays? If he’s to be believed, it’s because he doesn’t want anyone else to be ordered around by Tokiomi. If his intel was correct back then, a similar situation happened with Tohsaka’s wife, in that she had no choice in the matter of giving away their second daughter.

He’s being treated in the same way as Kariya’s unrequited love. He wonders what the significance of that is, if there is any.

“Aren’t you two cozy,” a haughty voice interrupts them. Behind them, on the couch, the King of Heroes materializes in a shower of gold, smiling to himself. “The mongrel’s rather quick on the uptake, isn’t he, Kirei? He took most of the words right out of my mouth.”

“You were eavesdropping?!” Kariya lets go of Kirei’s rosary, seeming to remember his state of still-relative undress in the company of Gilgamesh himself. It’s not as if Gilgamesh isn’t giving him the once-over, either, prompting Kariya to shuffle behind Kirei, out of his line of sight. For all that they were arguing about, Kirei doesn’t feel like pushing Kariya away, content to let Kariya use him as a shield. For now. “Didn’t you leave with Tokiomi or something?”

Gilgamesh, now unable to behold Kariya’s pale, veined legs, lets out an airy sigh. “You really need to teach this one better manners, Kirei. Hypocrisy in any form is unsightly, even on a mongrel.”

Before Kariya can bluster about anything else, Kirei addresses Archer. “I would have thought that Master Tokiomi would want you with him at all times, especially now.”

Rolling his eyes, Gilgamesh sprawls out over the cushions, one arm propping his head up. “I was with him until he returned to the house. I’m sure you’re quite aware that there are more pesky insects about tonight than normal.”

_Emiya Kiritsugu,_ Kirei realizes. Of course—his two women were here, there’s no way he wasn’t listening to their meeting somehow, through a bug or wire tap. Just the thought of Emiya makes his skin prickle.

“Indeed,” he says, knowing Gilgamesh can see just how unraveled the thought of not being able to confront the man that could be the answer he seeks makes him. “He must be on high alert.”

“Don’t dodge the question though, Kirei.” Gilgamesh disappears, dematerializing, just to reappear at Kirei’s side, propping his elbow up on Kirei’s shoulder. Kariya is too startled to jump away, but Gilgamesh pays him no mind. “You long to keep fighting, don’t you? Be honest.”

Now _he’s_ trying to get an answer out of him. Kirei can feel Kariya’s expectant gaze on him, too. He’s cornered. Before he can agonize over it further, Kirei finds his mouth opening, letting his thoughts spill from his lips.

It doesn’t matter that Kariya’s here. It doesn’t matter that he’s laying himself bare in front of another Master. If he doesn’t say it now, it will destroy him.

“For as long as I remember,” Kirei starts, his voice coming out naturally, not strained. “I have spent my life in search of a single ‘thing.’ I’ve devoted every moment, endured great _pain_ for it. But… it has been nothing but a fruitless endeavor, to this point. And yet, I sense that I’ve never been closer to that answer, that _‘thing,’_ than I am right now.”

Kariya looks like he’s about to say something, but Gilgamesh beats him to the punch. “If you’ve thought on it so deeply, why do you continue to hesitate?”

“Because,” Kirei’s throat bobs as he swallows. It’s a subtle motion—he knows that Gilgamesh sees it, maybe Kariya too. He lifts a hand to his face, covering it. “I fear… that once I learn all the answers… it will lead to my utter annihilation.”

It would be better to turn back. To leave. To just…

“Don’t be stupid.”

This time, it’s Kariya who speaks. Kirei glances down towards him, shifting his hand away from his face. He realizes, belatedly, that Kariya’s hand is curled against his back, bunching up the fabric of his shirt. How long has he been touching him, and why hasn’t Kirei knocked that touch away?

“You won’t know that unless you see it through,” Kariya says. “If you just give up on everything now, you’ll still have those questions. You’ll die with them, too. Don’t let someone like _Tokiomi_ interfere with something that important to you.”

_Ah, there it is again,_ Kirei feels his eyes narrow. _All this, all these words… over Tokiomi. Not for me._

If he wants this man to do _anything_ for him, Tokiomi is the factor that needs to be eliminated first. He made that empty promise to him just to keep him around, to keep him from leaving Kirei’s sight—but now. Oh, now, he wants it just as much as Kariya, but for different reasons.

“Quite tenacious, this one,” Gilgamesh says lowly, lips brushing Kirei’s ear. “Perhaps I could get used to him after all.”

Before Kariya can interject— _and based on how his nose wrinkles at Gilgamesh’s comment, he was just about to—_ the phone behind them rings. It doesn’t startle Kirei as much as it should; he recalls that the Church’s forces were in his hands, now. He had sent them out to hunt down the location of the Einzbern camp, lying and insisting that it was his father’s dying wish. He can’t think of anyone else that might try calling him. Save Tokiomi, but he wouldn’t dream of using a telephone for that.

Kirei disengages himself from Gilgamesh and Kariya, noting that both touches linger. He isn’t sure how to feel about that. He picks up the receiver, holding it to his ear. He does not speak, only listens. Evidently, the inquisitor on the other end doesn’t mind, dutifully giving their report:

They had located the Einzbern’s hideout. They had an address, even.

“Understood. Well done.”

He places the receiver back on its hook. The effect this news has on him is overwhelming. Knowing where the Einzbern homunculus, Emiya’s assassin pet, and Saber were hiding filled him with renewed vigor. He’s excited now, but not nervous—no, he finds he’s never felt so relaxed. Everything that he had been agonizing over not even moments ago… _doesn’t matter._

He knows where they are. _Emiya Kiritsugu_ knows where they are. Already, he’s thinking of all the different ways he could use them to draw him out.

“Ah,” Gilgamesh speaks up, materializing next to him once more. “You’ve just received an exciting bit of news, I take it.”

Kirei can feel his mouth drawing up at the edges. “We’ve finally learned where the Einzbern camp is.”

 

* * *

 

It’s then that Kariya realizes just how sinister this priest really is. That _smile_ on his face—he’s only smiled once, and he can hardly remember what that looked like without the lust at the time fogging his perception. But now, it’s…

_Unsettling._ If there’s anything Kariya is certain of about Kotomine Kirei, it’s that when he smiles like that, it’s _unsettling._ Like the peeling grin of a ravenous wolf—all he needs to do is lick his chops and the analogy would be perfect.

Archer’s laugh barks out sharply, echoing as he fades away in a shower of gold from Kirei’s side, only to reappear at Kariya’s. Without warning, one arm wraps around his abdomen to pull him flush against his chest, the other snaking up to his front to grasp at his face, his hand squeezing his jaw with a clearly measured amount of restraint.

“Isn’t it just _astounding,_ mongrel?” Archer says, jostling Kariya around as if he were a toy. He laughs again, and Kariya can feel it against his back, hypersensitive to the rise and fall of his chest. “He never planned on leaving in the first place! As I live and breathe, he continues to _amaze_ me!”

Kariya really should be struggling more, but he’s realizing a lot of things about Archer right now. One, he’s taller than him, almost as built as Kirei, and two, _he shouldn’t be kind of into being manhandled like this, that single remaining Lust worm is going to be the end of him._

“I _did_ hesitate,” Kirei says, moving closer to them. As if Archer just grabbing Kariya is completely natural. “I even considered giving up.”

In a strange move, Kirei lifts his left arm, peeling back the sleeve of his right. Even if Kariya hadn’t been tangled up in Archer’s arms, he would’ve gasped anyway at the Command Seals etched into the back of Kirei’s right arm.

“But it is as you say,” he continues. “Someone like me can only live on with questions.”

Though he, as a participant in the war, should have known about the leftover Command Seals that he would’ve inherited as the new Overseer, Kariya still can’t help but feel amazed at the sight. They were intricate, wild, yet controlled in their strokes against his flesh.

Archer laughs again, the rhythmic beat of his chest pressing insistently into Kariya’s back as he leans over him. “However, Kirei. There remains for you a rather _grave_ problem,” All too suddenly, Archer’s grip around Kariya tightens, to the point where Kariya can feel his bones grinding and groaning beneath his grip. “Were you to begin participating in the Holy Grail war once more, but on your _own_ merits, Tokiomi Tohsaka becomes your enemy… and right now, you are in the presence of not one, but _two_ enemy Servants.”

An echoing, bestial growl rolls forth from behind them. A glance over his shoulder confirms it; Berserker has manifested all on his own, standing behind the couch. Just standing there, the dense magical fog rolling off him. _I didn’t call for him,_ Kariya thinks, heart clenching in his chest. _Why is he here? This is bad, if he can appear all on his own, that’s—_

But before Berserker has the chance to attack, Archer releases Kariya, letting him fall to his knees. “Now, now, mad dog. I was only teasing. A joke, you know? Can you even understand humor, I wonder?”

Berserker lets out a gargled growl in response. This only seems to amuse Archer further. The Black Knight tips his head down, angled towards Kariya. His gaze feels strange, somehow—Berserker has hardly ever looked at him before, only operating as a wild weapon up till now, but the way his head is tilted towards him… _is he concerned?_ Can he _be_ concerned for a Master that only exists to feed him mana?

“I’m fine, Berserker,” Kariya tries talking to him. If he’s lucid, he’ll react, and if not… he has Command Seals. “You don’t have to worry. Just go.”

There’s a pause. And then, just as suddenly as he’d appeared, he fades, going back to his spirit form.

“Well, _one_ enemy Servant, then,” Archer continues, unperturbed. With no regard for propriety, he sits down on the end table between the chairs, crossing one leg over the other. “But the fact remains that you, Kirei, have no real plan to defend yourself. Rather _dire_ for you, wouldn’t you think?”

Kariya is about to struggle to his feet when, once more, a hand reaches out for him. He looks up that arm, eye resting on Kirei’s still-smiling face. There’s a moment of hesitation before Kariya takes that hand, huffing as Kirei hauls him back up to his feet. There’s confidence in that smile, and it doesn’t seem like Berserker’s sudden appearance shook him at all.

“No, not at all. I’ve something to trade for my life, you see,” Kirei answers Archer, though he’s still looking at Kariya, still holding onto his hand. “I’m sure you know what I’m referring to, as well, don’t you? Kariya.”

Brows furrowed, Kariya shifts his gaze away. “No, I don’t.”

“Of course you do.” Kirei guides Kariya to the chair on his right, urging him to sit. Archer, content to sit back on the sofa rather than on the table, fades from view in a shower of gold, reappearing mere meters away from where he had just been. Why he didn’t just _get up_ to move is beyond Kariya, but he isn’t about to ask.

Kirei’s touch lingers as his hand slips out of Kariya’s, fingers brushing gently along his palm. Kariya bites the inside of his cheek, looking up towards Kirei briefly before looking away again. He isn’t sure he likes just how… _jovial_ the priest is right now.

“I speak, of course, of the truth behind the Holy Grail war, that has been kept from you, Gilgamesh.”

_Oh,_ Kariya blinks, realization dawning on him. _He means_ that, _huh._ He knew that it was the original plan of the three great families, but the only one that really cared about it has always been Tokiomi. If he won the Grail, then he would go through with those decades-long ambitions, meaning…

“The sacrifice of all seven Heroic Spirits to open a path to the Root,” Kariya says. Both Kirei and Archer look to him. Kirei, still smiling, arches his brow, while Archer just pins him in place with those crimson eyes of his. Swallowing, Kariya continues, “That’s… what you mean, isn’t it? Kirei-san?”

“Indeed,” Kirei nods. “The activation of the Third Magic. And yes, Gilgamesh, you heard right—all _seven_ Heroic Spirits. It is essential that _all seven_ Servants are killed in order to activate the Greater Grail. This is why he has been so hesitant to use _any_ of his Command Seals… because he requires them to order his Servant to commit suicide, once the war reaches its conclusion.”

Kariya isn’t sure what he expects Archer’s reaction to be, but the dry laugh that comes from him is still strange to him. “So you mean to tell me that Tokiomi’s so-called devotion to me has been nothing but a falsehood, Kirei?”

“To put it another way,” Kirei speaks, his tone emotionless, but the narrow of his eyes belying his true feelings on the matter. “My Master is a mage to his very core. He may worship a Heroic Spirit, but he harbors no illusions about his idols.”

Curling his fingers against his sleeve, Kariya glowers. He’s been saying this since the start, that Tokiomi is garbage, nothing but a selfish, self-important blowhard that would give up his own _daughter_ for a chance to reach the Root—

Kirei’s smiling at him, _directly_ at him. Kariya swallows, shifting his gaze from the priest over to Archer, who’s remained quiet in the wake of all this.

“Oh, Tokiomi… at _last_ you’ve shown some hint of promise.” he says, tipping his head up. He’s grinning madly, lips peeled back against his teeth. “That boring little man will _finally_ be able to entertain me!”

_It’s like I’m in a lion’s den,_ Kariya finds himself thinking, unconsciously shrinking back against his own chair. With Kirei smiling like that, and now Archer showing his teeth in his own grin, it’s abundantly clear that these two are _hungry_. Not for food, not sex, but _violence._ Kariya gulps. _These two really are… something else._

It’s not that he’s scared. Berserker is here, and strangely lucid, and he knows he’s prepared to call on him if he needs to—but he isn’t. These two don’t want him, no. Their eyes are firmly on Tokiomi, and while Kariya shares that, he wouldn’t group himself with Kirei and Archer.

His hatred for Tokiomi is deeper than any excited bloodlust these two might have for him. They might want to rip him apart, but Kariya wants more than that—he wants to rub it in his _face_ how much of a horrible person he is, remind him that he gave away his _own daughter_ to an inhuman _monster,_ that Kariya loves his family more than _he ever would._

And _then_ he would kill him for good.

“Now then, what will you do, King of Heroes?” Kirei’s voice brings Kariya out of his bloody fantasy. “Knowing what you know now, will you continue to serve my Master… and punish me for rebelling against him?”

“Ah, a fair question indeed,” Archer leans forward, elbows braced on his knees. “In spite of his treachery, Tokiomi still provides me with the mana I need to stay materialized… _oh,_ ” He straightens up, and though Kariya can only see his profile, he can still see the salacious look that Archer gives Kirei. “Come to think of it! There _is_ a partnerless Master that I know of, currently seeking out a Servant unbound by a contract.”

Kirei’s eyes are on Gilgamesh now, that smile growing somehow wider. “As a matter of fact, you’re right. But there remains the question of whether or not that man is a worthy Master in the eyes of the King of Heroes.”

Kariya blinks as this exchange continues on before him, watching as Archer and Gilgamesh plot to team up once Tokiomi is dead. But it brings up a question of his own. _Have these two always just… flirted like this, or is this a new thing, now that Tokiomi’s out of the equation?_

The bewilderment must be evident on his face, because Archer laughs again, draping himself over the right end of the couch towards Kariya. Though he can’t retreat any farther into the chair, Kariya attempts so, not used to this kind of attention from someone like the so-called King of Heroes.

“Say now, mongrel,” he purrs, his voice thick with amusement. “This means a partnership with you, too, you realize.”

“Uh,” Kariya looks to Kirei, hoping for an out, but he gets none. All he gets is that smile, which is _still_ more unnerving than his usual dourness. “Yeah, I had that figured, since…”

“Then,” Gilgamesh cuts him off, as if he didn’t even need to answer. “Surely, you know that this makes you, as well as that mad dog, mine for the time being. After all, Kirei is well aware of my possession over him, and if you are to work with him, that means being _under_ me.”

“ _Under—_ hang on,” Kariya holds a hand up, trying to get him to slow down. “You lost me, what? I mean, if it means Tokiomi gets killed, I don’t really care either way, but this sounds a lot more like you’re… this doesn’t sound like you’re _choosing vassals_ or whatever, it sounds more like—”

“Vassals? Hah!” Gilgamesh slaps a hand against the arm of the sofa, falling into another fit of hysterics. “No, no, you are my _possessions_ until further notice. And based on how loose and limber you were in my arms earlier…”

All the blood in his body floods to his face in that moment, and Kariya can’t help but let out an indignant squawk. “ _That’s_ what you were doing?!”

“Now, now,” Kirei interrupts their conversation— _though Kariya isn’t sure what he would’ve had to say to that—_ standing up from his seat. “If we are going to do this tonight, we will need to stay on track.”

Gilgamesh gives Kariya one last predatory grin before sitting back up in the middle of the sofa. “Ah, yes, you want the overture to commence, in other words? Very well. I leave it in your hands, Kirei… I look forward to what you have planned.”

And with that, Gilgamesh disappears, presumably on his way back to Tohsaka manor. Kariya can feel himself relax involuntarily; he isn’t afraid, that’s for sure, but he really is… put off.

Letting out a sigh, Kariya meets Kirei’s eyes, his mouth pulling into a tight line. “So… what now? The whole plan revolved around Tokiomi being _here,_ and not back home.”

Kirei crosses over to him, and slowly but surely, that smile of his softens into something… new. Something Kariya can’t put a name to. He thinks he likes it better than his other smile, but it’s still got an edge to it that leaves him unsettled.

“You needn’t worry about that, Kariya,” Kirei’s hand settles on Kariya’s shoulder. It slides up his neck, cupping his jaw. It’s a mindless sort of touch, his hand moving up and down along the skin of his neck, the strokes almost soothing. “I will ensure that he comes back. Everything will be arranged according to our original plan.”

Kariya doesn’t answer.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MAJOR gore warning in this chapter, but it's strictly towards the end

There is fear in Kariya’s eyes now, an addled discomfort now that he’s seen Kirei (at this point, at least) at his most indulgent. And as his hand smooths over the distended veins along Kariya’s face and neck, Kirei can only feel heat bubbling through his own.

“Kariya,” Kirei says. He knows they are short on time. But the look in Kariya’s eyes—a little frightened, a little curious, almost besotted with the touch Kirei is laying upon his skin—begs Kirei to take just a few minutes more, now that they are alone. “Are you afraid of me?”

His throat bobbing with the deep swallow he takes, Kariya averts his gaze. “Kind of. I mean… with you smiling like that, kind of. But at the same time, it’s…”

The fact that Kariya can’t quite meet his eyes and that he trails off like that… Kirei can tell he’s as scared as he is fascinated by his shift in demeanor. His hand slides up to cup Kariya’s jaw, thumbing at his bottom lip.

“ _It’s…_ _?_ _”_ Kirei prods, tugging at Kariya’s chin, trying to get him to meet his eyes. “It’s what, Kariya?”

Kariya gulps, reluctantly looking up into Kirei’s face. The tips of his ears are pinker than normal—and slowly, his one working eye slides up to meet his. Kirei can feel his own smile growing, and he has to fight to keep it back, to keep himself from baring his teeth. With how nervous Kariya seems to be, he must be able to tell.

“It’s…” Kariya tries to find the right word, blush spreading to his cheeks. “Kind of… hot? Which is weird,” he doesn’t look away, but Kariya starts fiddling with the end of his borrowed shirt, his toes curling against the carpet. “I don’t usually… I mean, I… this is still new to me, so… I’m figuring this stuff out as I go, and I’m… not sure why I think that just yet. It’s scary, but I also… like it?”

It takes all of Kirei’s self-control, which itself is fraying as the hours go by, to keep himself from barking out a laugh. He can’t quite stop himself from chuckling, though; it’s just precious, watching Kariya work through his own confusion.

“Quite the predicament indeed,” Kirei purrs, reveling in how Kariya twitches. “Have your tastes always eluded you so?”

There’s a thoughtful pause. “No,” Kariya says, but it’s slow, as if he’s really unsure. “Just… I guess I’m learning more about myself. There’s only ever been one person I loved, I never stopped to think about what else I might like. It’s only ever been _one_ person, so this is…”

_Tohsaka Aoi._ The woman he could never have, and never will. Kariya must know that more than anyone—ah, but the desperation with which he clings to the idea that _maybe, just maybe…_ it’s exquisite to behold. Even now, though he hasn’t mentioned her by name, Kirei can see the pained furrow to his brow.

Matou Kariya, a man with only one thing sustaining him. That one, shining thing that keeps him hopeful. His entire reason for fighting in this war. Kirei wants to rip it to bits in front of him, leave him without it, just to see what he does.

_No… not yet,_ he reminds himself. Yes, that’s right. Kirei needs to see what Kariya will do once the object of his hatred is no more—without that to sustain him, what will happen? Will he realize his folly, realize that now that he’s killed the husband of the woman he so desires, he can’t pursue her without that guilt eating away at him?

It’s almost too beautiful to imagine. Kirei can feel himself growing more and more aroused the longer he contemplates it.

“It’s new,” Kirei finally says, his thumb sliding along Kariya’s lip. “And frightening… isn’t it?”

Kariya’s tongue darts out of his mouth to wet his lips, just barely grazing Kirei’s thumb. It’s a subtle motion, but it leaves Kirei sighing, a low hum rumbling from his chest. If the way Kariya shuffles his thigh is any tell, he’s not unaffected by this, either.

“Yeah,” Kariya’s voice is low, breath hot on Kirei’s hand as it hisses from him. His eyelid lowers, good eye fogging over slightly. “It’s…”

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Kirei draws a step closer, easing Kariya’s head back further to accommodate. “But I have a feeling that this is the first time you’ve had such inclinations towards another man. You seemed quite eager, the moment I first touched you.”

His mouth is soft with inattention, just watching Kirei now. He doesn’t say otherwise—Kirei assumes he’s correct, then.

“In fact,” Kirei grows bolder, his thumb dipping into the corner of Kariya’s mouth. “I’d go as far as saying that this may be the first time you’ve ever acted on such urges.”

This seems to startle Kariya out of his stupor. He pulls back, turning his head away from Kirei. Kariya grips at his arm tightly, shrinking as far back into the chair as he possibly can. “You don’t have to say it like _that._ I was… I never thought about… I had work, and… it’s complicated.”

Kirei just about chokes. He didn’t see this coming. The man who practically _threw_ himself at him is a virgin. Perhaps he should feel shame in all that he’s allowed him to do, in all he’s done _to_ him, but all he feels is an arousal so thick, so heady, that Kirei has to actively ensure he isn’t going to stumble.

He must have been making a face, because Kariya glances back up at him and weakly shoves at his thigh. “Shut up, it’s not _that_ strange.”

Laughing softly, Kirei reaches out again, fingers carding through Kariya’s hair this time around. “I think you’ll find that I haven’t said anything, Kariya.”

“You didn’t have to! It’s—written all over your face,” Kariya doesn’t flinch away from him this time, but he still refuses to look him in the eye, drawing a knee up to press into his chest. “You probably think I’m some loser that couldn’t get himself laid, don’t you?”

“Not at all,” Kirei tips his hand, cradling Kariya’s head, attempting to get that one working eye back on him. “Chastity is a precious virtue.”

Kariya shifts in his seat, unconsciously tipping his head into Kirei’s hand. Kirei wonders how often, if ever, Kariya’s been touched like this. Has Tohsaka Aoi ever carded her hands through his hair, as Kirei is doing now? Or is this the first time Kariya has known this kind of intimacy? The thought of it sends a shiver up Kirei’s spine. And though there’s still an edge of uncertainty in his voice, Kariya relaxes bit by bit, breathing out his next words. “You say that… but I’m getting the feeling you’re trying something.”

Kirei hums. “Nothing nefarious, I can promise you.”

“Oh yeah?” Kariya, his voice heady and slurred, lets his eye slide shut. “So you _are_ trying something.”

“It would be beneficial for what needs to be done,” Kirei bends slightly, eyes fixed on Kariya’s left eye, still open, milky white and glazed and lifeless. It’s a sudden, impulsive thought, but Kirei wonders if Kariya would even feel it if Kirei ran his tongue over it. Would he even blink or twitch? Questions for later. “You’re in need of mana, are you not?”

Kariya’s right eye snaps back open, fully attentive once more. He doesn’t pull away from Kirei this time, but his gaze is tense, anxious. “Yeah, but… I don’t know if… I want to be able to walk, and if I can’t walk by the time Tokiomi gets here—”

It’s rather cute, in a way. Though the thought is tempting in itself, if Kirei were to properly bed him, he doubts he would be able to control himself—indeed, he may very well make it so that Kariya can’t walk for days on end, if given such free reign. Lightly shushing him, Kirei shakes his head. “No, not that. We are short on time as it is. I was merely going to suggest you use your mouth. That should provide you with enough to adequately deal with him tonight.”

“You mean…” Kariya’s nose wrinkles. “I have to swallow? That’s… doesn’t it taste bad?”

Kirei resists the urge to roll his eyes. “Half of your taste buds are dead, Kariya. I think you’ll survive.”

Good eye narrowed, Kariya huffs, conceding to his point. He shuts his eye again, leaning into Kirei’s hand. “Fine, okay, that’s fair. You know, you’re kind of tactless—you’re lucky I’m already kind of horny.”

Deciding against commenting on the _tactless_ remark, Kirei relinquishes a bit of his control, letting himself guide Kariya’s face towards the bulge in his slacks. Even having that mild pressure against him is enough to draw a low groan from deep in his throat. “Then I shall leave it in your hands.”

Even Kariya’s blush, from this angle, looks lopsided; as if the blood in the left side of his body was slower to pump due to the damage from the worms. Lowering his knee back to the floor, Kariya pulls his face back and lifts his hand, fumbles with the button and fly of Kirei’s slacks.

He’s shaking. Kirei swallows the excess saliva gathering in his mouth.

“Um,” Kariya says softly, stopping short at Kirei’s boxers. “Jesus, you’re big…”

The inanity of his statement almost makes Kirei want to laugh. He huffs a single breath, his hand tightening in Kariya’s hair. “Remember where you are, Kariya.”

“W—Well I’m _sorry,”_ Kariya sputters, shooting Kirei a look. “I wasn’t expecting you to be—this is so unfair, what kind of genes do you _have_ to get this huge…”

The absolute _last_ thing Kirei wants to think about when he has Kariya before him like this is his family, so he takes the next step that Kariya seems hesitant on and pulls his cock out of his boxers. There’s a special sort of heat that stirs in his stomach at the sigh that Kariya gives upon seeing it, his good eye fogging over anew.

“Go on then,” Kirei says, his voice rougher than it usually is. “Or will you need guidance in this, as well?”

He doesn’t mean it to sound like a challenge, but Kariya seems to take it as such. Without another word, he shakily wraps his hand around Kirei’s cock and starts pumping him clumsily, brows furrowed deeply in thought. Kariya’s palm is clammy with sweat, his throat bobbing with repeated gulps. He’s so nervous, and he hasn’t even started yet.

Of course, these facts don’t make Kirei any less aroused. In fact, Kariya’s abject terror at the prospect of potentially making a fool of himself in this, in _pleasuring_ Kirei, sets his blood to greater heat with every passing second. The wait is such agony, such sweet torture, it flavors the experience. He doesn’t even mind if Kariya is terrible at this; he will guide him, use him, and he will cum down his throat regardless.

With an unsure grimace, Kariya places a kiss to the head of Kirei’s cock, and Kirei lets out a low groan. A bead of precum smears against his lips, and the taste seems to leave Kariya wanting. Perhaps it’s the few remaining worms inside him, compelling him to greater hunger at the taste of it. Slowly, Kariya licks over the head, his hand beginning to steady in its strokes against his shaft.

It’s a tease, and Kirei can hardly stand it. They’re short on time as it is, and as much as he’d like to let Kariya discover his newfound lusts in real time, he can’t enjoy that luxury right now. This is the first time he’s been dominant when it comes to sex— _barring Claudia, and even then, even then—_ and though he’s wont to admit it, Kirei feels frustrated that he’s _fumbling_ as he is. If Archer were here, it would be easier, just having him urging him along, goading him into further boldness.

_Take,_ that voice says, and Kirei can practically feel the King of Heroes at his back. _He wants it just as badly. Do it._

“Open your mouth,” Kirei grunts, jerking Kariya’s head back by the hair. Rather than protesting, Kariya lets out a moan of his own at the rough treatment, his mouth opening willingly as wide as he can manage it. “Good.”

Kariya whimpers, his hand dropping back into his own lap. “Pull yours out,” Kirei orders, just as he can see Kariya attempting to touch himself _through_ his boxers. It’s a vague, formless thought, but Kirei would rather not do laundry again so soon, and not on the same garment. Kariya does as he’s asked, sending another pulse of heat straight through his cock. Huffing a breath, Kirei grits his teeth. “Touch yourself. Do not finish before I do.”

Using his other hand, Kirei grips tightly at Kariya’s jaw, wedging it open further. Kariya makes a wordless sound, but Kirei cuts it off in the middle, shoving his cock down Kariya’s throat as far as he can get it. Kirei can feel the slackness of Kariya’s left side in his hand, can feel the pressure against his cock bear down heavier on that side, light impressions of teeth against his shaft. Kirei pushes in until Kariya’s nose jabs into his pelvis, letting his eyes roll back and fall shut at the feeling of Kariya’s throat convulsing around him.

Kariya moans around him, and Kirei cries out, forgetting himself. He’s meant to be in control, he shouldn’t be reacting so readily, but he can’t help it. He wants to relinquish it, deep down—to forget himself _completely,_ to let himself be ruined and pried open and laid bare. But all the same… he wants to do that to _Kariya._ And that he wants it, wants at _all,_ must have some meaning.

And if he wishes to learn that, he must continue. He must stay in control.

Trembling minutely, Kirei draws his hips back, centimeter by centimeter, and then drives back in hard. He doesn’t want to pull himself out too far—Kariya’s mouth, while mired and ruined and half-dead, is warm and tight, wet and edging near _perfect_ in this moment. Shakily, he keeps his thrusts short, but hard, focusing more on how Kariya’s throat squeezes around him with each thrust, as if trying to keep him there—Kirei trembles at the thought, in spite of himself.

Kariya makes a loud, keening sound, his hand stuttering faster over himself. Kirei growls—he told him not to finish before he did, he was very clear. But he’s close, himself, and the _noise_ Kariya makes around him, the arrhythmic pulsing of his throat around his length is too much. If he opens his mouth, something else will spill out—a moan, a cry, perhaps even an impassioned sob of Kariya’s name—

He can’t do any of that. No. He can’t. They just _don’t_ have the time for it, if he lets himself want any more, he’ll keep going, milk Kariya for all he’s worth, push him further, further, _further._ Take everything that he has and leave nothing left.

Take everything, leave nothing for anyone else. Nothing for the Matou girl, nothing for Zouken, nothing for the Tohsaka matriarch.

“ _Hnnh,_ ” Kirei grits his teeth against the groan that threatens to leave him, his grip too tight on Kariya’s face now, too tight in his hair. Not tight enough to cause lasting damage—he is a master of discipline, not even _this_ can make him lose control over his own body—but he’s sure that he’s leaving bruises against Kariya’s jaw, tugging against his scalp to the point of pain. But Kariya doesn’t protest; if anything, it seems to arouse him further, his hand all but abandoning his own cock to grip tightly at Kirei’s hip. Gasping through his parted lips, Kirei shuts his eyes and growls his warning, “… I—”

Kirei can’t even finish his warning before it seizes him. Deep, paralyzing heat uncoils from deep in his stomach, causing his knees to buckle, his muscles to seize—he pulls Kariya in against his pelvis, presses his cock into his mouth as deep as he can get it. Kariya is making noise around him, whimpering and keening, huffing hot air through his nose. hunching over him, Kirei lets out a long, deep moan, keeping his eyes shut against the fire scorching his nerves as he cums hard down Kariya’s throat.

It lasts longer than Kirei expects it to, pulse after pulse of cum emptying into Kariya’s mouth, mana flowing through him and passing to Kariya. He can feel Kariya shiver against him with the transfer, his arm sliding around Kirei’s hips and keeping him pinned against him. Though he had complained about having to swallow, there’s no trace of hesitance in the deep, loud gulps that Kariya takes, ending each with a soft, muffled moan.

Though it lasts for what feels like minutes, Kirei takes in a long breath as he feels himself finish completely. He slowly eases Kariya’s mouth off him, though Kariya’s arm is still hooked around his waist. Kariya sighs, almost wistfully, as his head tips back. Kirei’s cum is smeared against his lips, a crude reminder.

His eyes wander down further, noting Kariya’s still-throbbing erection.

“You…” Kirei wheezes, not realizing just how out of breath he still is. “You haven’t finished yet.”

Kariya blinks heavily, as if still well within the grips of a trance. “Huh… oh yeah, I haven’t…”

Kirei slides his hand from Kariya’s hair to his face. He can feel something pulse in his stomach when Kariya leans into his touch. “Do you require my…”

“ _Fuck,_ yes,” Kariya says, panting anew. Kirei didn’t even need to finish his offer. He rubs his cheek into Kirei’s palm, his lips catching at his thumb as he speaks. “Please, _please_ touch me, all I need is just a little more and I’ll—”

Kirei taps at Kariya’s hand, still curled around him possessively. “You will need to let go of me, if I am to reach you.”

“Oh,” Kariya sighs. He sounds oddly pained by the notion. “Yeah.”

Reluctantly, Kariya’s arm eases in its death grip around Kirei, letting him take a knee. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a packet of tissues, keeping one ready for when Kariya finishes. He is _not_ going to do another load of laundry before Tokiomi is dead.

Kirei doesn’t pause to ask what Kariya would like him to do. With his free hand, he grasps Kariya’s cock, reddened and leaking, and kneads at it with a tight grip as he leans forward to lathe his tongue over his head. Kariya all but screams, his hand grasping desperately at Kirei’s shoulder, his face pressing into the crown of Kirei’s head.

“Please, _please,_ ohmygod—hnnn,” Kariya sobs, “Kirei, Kirei, holy _shit_ more, more, I—”

Though Kariya is slight and lean of frame, Kirei can feel a sharp pain forming beneath the hand Kariya has at his shoulder—it will bruise, Kirei’s certain of it. Licking a stripe up his cock, Kirei places a kiss to the tip and quickens the pace of his hand. He can’t lift his head far; Kariya still has his face pressed into his hair, his breath hissing through his scalp and wetting it into clumps with his saliva.

Anticipating it, Kirei covers Kariya’s cockhead with a tissue. Just as he can feel the first pulse of warmth, Kariya’s hand leaves his shoulder, gripping tightly at Kirei’s jaw. Lifting his face away from Kirei’s hair, Kariya jerks Kirei’s head upward to crush their lips together, clumsily shoving his tongue into his mouth.

Awareness of his surroundings slides away from Kirei at that point—he _thinks_ he’s catching most of Kariya’s release in the tissue, but he isn’t sure, because he’s being kissed so abruptly. He stares at Kariya, whose one good eye is squeezed shut, wondering _why?_ Kariya’s nails are rough against his skin, scratching out of absent-mindedness. He’s sure that Kariya’s finished by now, but he hasn’t stopped kissing him, as if he’s intent on stealing more than just his mana away.

Before his eyes, he watches as a tear squeezes past Kariya’s tightly shut eye, tracks it as it rolls down the unmarred side of his face. What could he be thinking, Kirei can’t help but wonder. That tear could be brought forth by any number of things—but that they would appear _now_ makes something in Kirei’s chest twinge in pain.

Kariya lets him go, his hand dropping back into his lap. His tongue leaves Kirei’s mouth, dragging against his teeth and lips, smearing him with saliva. Blinking his good eye back open, he seems to prickle at whatever look he’s perceiving in Kirei’s eyes.

“That kiss sucked. It sucked, didn’t it?” Kariya mutters. “Well, sorry. I don’t have experience with that, either.”

“Neither do I,” Kirei admits, though he isn’t sure why now, of all times, he’s admitting to something so meaningless. “Archer complains about my ineptitude in that regard.”

Kariya wrinkles his nose at the mention of Gilgamesh. “Something tells me his standards are a little… impossible. Being a _king_ and all, he’s probably kissed more than he’s told.”

Bunching up the tissue still held at Kariya’s cockhead— _earning him a rather nice gasp, it almost sounded pained—_ Kirei moves to stand. “Perhaps so. It doesn’t interest me, in any case. I’ve no need for a skill like that, no matter how much he bemoans it.”

Kirei can feel Kariya’s eyes on him as he crosses over to his desk, reaching underneath to throw the tissue into the wastebasket. When he turns back around, Kariya snaps his mouth shut, as if he wanted to say something about that.

“How is your mana?” Kirei asks, changing the subject with little thought. “I trust I gave you an adequate amount.”

It’s a fact, and Kirei knows it. Why Kariya gets so red in the face after he says it, however, is beyond him.

“Y—Yeah,” Kariya turns his head away sharply, one shoulder hunched up around his ear. Kirei fails to see why he does it, because the left side of Kariya’s face is still completely visible to him. “I’m good. I mean, _it’s_ good. It was good—the transfer, it was… my mana’s… it’s strange.”

Kirei tilts his head. “Meaning?”

“I’ve been…” Kariya’s shoulder slumps a bit. “Fatigued and worn down this entire time, but now it’s like I’m filled to the brim with energy.”

_Ah, so that’s it._ The realization dawns on Kirei then. “As is natural. I take this is your first proper mana transfer?”

“If by _proper_ you mean getting it from someone _human,_ then yeah,” Kariya’s right hand grips tightly at his upper left arm. Kirei’s only now noticing that it’s his most constant tic. His voice turns to a growl, resentment dripping from his tone. “The Matous aren’t exactly what you’d call _proper,_ after all.”

There’s a great deal more that Kirei could ask, but this isn’t the time. His curiosity can wait for the moment, though even _having_ curiosity nibble at him is an alien sensation in itself.

“In any case,” Kirei walks past him to the door, turning to look Kariya in the face as he rests his hand on the doorknob. “It should be more than you are used to—therefore, plenty for you to properly control your Berserker with. Should you decide to use him in this endeavor.”

There’s a thoughtful pause. And then, Kariya shakes his head. “No. If… if I have to, I will. But I want to do it with my own hands.”

Kirei, feeling giddy at the implications of that, lets himself smile. It’s a wicked, ugly thing, but it feels so _natural._ “I see.”

 

* * *

 

Kariya is so full of mana, he’s finding it hard to sit still. Kirei had excused himself to get Tokiomi, and now, Kariya just has to wait.

“ _Wait in front of the pulpit,”_ Kirei told him. _“Tokiomi shall be dropped at your feet within the hour.”_

_That’s what he says,_ Kariya thinks to himself, his good leg bouncing impatiently. _But how the hell can he be so sure about that? Why couldn’t he just take me right to Tohsaka manor and—_

Well, he _knows_ why—the barrier around the mansion would’ve made that impossible. If nothing else, Tokiomi is a top-notch mage. All the more reason to hate him, all the more reason to rip him apart on sight.

As an aside, Kariya’s thankful that Kirei took the time to at least get his pants out of the laundry for him to put on, though he’s still wearing Kirei’s shirt. Not because he has to, but well, you know how it is.

Rolling up the sleeves of that borrowed shirt, Kariya stares down at his right arm. He can feel his magic circuits humming beneath his flesh, a comforting warmth. It’s strange, not seeing them bulge against his skin, like they usually do when the worms infuse him with mana—hundreds of crest worms, eating away at his life force, jerking and undulating inside of him; no, that was _anything_ but warm and comforting.

He could get used to this. He could get used to feeling this warmth, and that frightens him.

Turning his left arm over, Kariya presses his thumb into his unfeeling skin, pressing hard against where he knows the magic circuits are. He can’t _feel_ it, but there’s a throbbing he can sense under his right thumb, an involuntary, sluggish reaction.

_Am I going to die?_ Kariya wonders. _If so, when? Will it be sooner, or later? Did Kirei add a few more days onto my life? Weeks? Months, even?_

The fact of the matter is that Kariya, for the first time in over a year, feels _alive._ And he doesn’t know how to deal with that. He’d been going forward this entire time thinking that he had a set expiration date, one that was growing closer and closer each time he called on Berserker or when he called forth the bugs— _horrible fucking things they are, disgusting, putrid—_ but now, that expiration date was murkier, perhaps not as close as he’d thought.

Would he even die at all, at this rate? As things stand now, he doesn’t feel like it’s a certain thing anymore.

_If I live longer than a week, then…_ Kariya feels his heart swell. _I could rescue Sakura, bring her back to Rin and Aoi, and we… we could…_

Two things occur to Kariya, then, two things that he hadn’t considered. One, would Aoi even want to look at him if he kills Tokiomi? Would it even matter if he brought Sakura home—he wants to lie to himself, to her, that she doesn’t _really_ love him that much, right? Tokiomi doesn’t care at all about them, not one bit, but _he_ does! He cares about Rin, about Sakura, about Aoi, so much more than he cares about anything else. Would that count for anything? Or… would Aoi just take Sakura, bring her in, and slam the door in Kariya’s face?

_That would about line up with my luck,_ Kariya presses a little too hard into his left arm with his thumb, wincing as he pulls his hand away. _I’ve had it okay so far, but will this weird lucky streak I’ve been having last that long…?_

And then there’s the second thing Kariya hasn’t considered; Kirei. He’s been more physically intimate with him than anyone else in his _entire_ life, and yet, he can’t help but regard the priest as little more than a stranger. He doesn’t know anything about Kotomine Kirei, nothing that _matters,_ not like with Aoi—

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Kariya shakes his head, feeling himself cringe. “Don’t even go there…”

Putting the strange, _too-attractive-for-his-own-good_ priest on the same level as the girl he’s known and loved since he was a kid is a little much. It’s _definitely_ not something he’s willing to confront right now—focus on the task at hand.

He’s going to have to fight Kirei at some point, after the other Grail War participants are taken out… right? He promised Kirei as much earlier, that they could cross that bridge when they came to it. But what would happen _when_ they got there…?

He swallows heavily. Instead of finding it in himself to calmly, rationally go over his plans for the future, Kariya only finds himself getting overly anxious the longer he thinks about it. He can’t say for sure what will happen.

_Don’t think about it,_ he tries telling himself. _Not now, anyway. You can’t back out of it now, you can’t._

Kariya turns his right hand over, palm facing him. Just a few days ago, he’d been covered from head to toe in burns, and god only knows how many bones he’d broken in the fall. It isn’t the pain that Kariya remembers most, though—it’s the look that Tokiomi had been giving him.

A frown had wrinkled his brow, his mouth in a tight line. He didn’t look pleased with himself, or mirthful in the face of Kariya’s defeat. If anything, in those eyes, all Tokiomi looked at Kariya with… was pity.

He _pitied_ him. He called burning him to death an _act of mercy._ As if he knew anything of mercy, of the kindness that comes with mercy. As if he knew anything of _kindness_ at all.

_No kind man would ever give his daughter away to a man like Zouken,_ Kariya curls his hand into a fist, shaking with rage at the thought. _No kind man in his right mind would ever trust the Matou family head._

Tokiomi reveres himself as royalty, as one of the elite, and yet he doesn’t understand a single thing about the real world. To a run-of-the-mill mage, kindness and compassion were both seen as folly. To Tokiomi, Kariya was a fool for abandoning the Matou name, for fleeing that hellish house as soon as he could. As if he knew anything about what Zouken was like _now._

_You think you know everything, Tokiomi,_ Kariya felt his nails biting into the skin of his palm, his breathing coming out in terse hisses. _But you don’t. You don’t. If you were half as smart as you claim to be, you would’ve kept Sakura the_ hell _away from the Matous. If you’d thought for one second about how she felt, how Aoi felt, how Rin felt, you wouldn’t have said yes to any of that—you would’ve—_

Before Kariya can upset himself any further, the doors to the church swing open loudly.

 

* * *

 

“Thank you,” Tokiomi says, lifting his head and looking Kirei right in the eyes. He’s genuine, his tone so warm that Kirei can almost feel it from where he sits across from him. “Kirei.”

Kirei doesn’t say anything. It’s the same kind of warmth he felt from Risei, whenever he smiled at him. Kirei never felt anything stir in him at the sight of it, even as a child, and it’s much the same here. These feelings that Tokiomi is sharing with him, this _warmth,_ may as well wither and die. It’s wasted on him.

Glancing down at the table between them. He spots a box, rectangular in shape, too long to house something like a framed picture or sweets. Kirei raises his eyebrows, performative in his curiosity. “What’s this?”

“A little something for you,” Tokiomi smiles wider. “A gift from me. Go on, open it.”

A gift. Kirei blinks, looking towards Tokiomi again, before he bends over to grab the box. Lifting the cover, the light of dawn filtering in through the window catching on the smooth surface of a blade. Numbness tickles at the tips of Kirei’s fingers as he stares at it, as he pulls it out of the finely woven silk that it sat upon.

“It’s an Azoth dagger,” Tokiomi explains, though his voice is distant to Kirei. “It symbolizes your mastery of magic, and marks the completion of your apprenticeship to me.”

Kirei speaks up, saying what he truly feels. “I am without words… you are too kind to me. I am filled with gratitude, my Master.”

It isn’t a complete lie. He _is_ grateful. Tokiomi has supplied him with the very weapon that will end his life; and he gave it to him with such heartfelt emotion, such earnestness, just thinking of the look on his face when he inevitably plunges this dagger into his back—

“It is I who should be thanking you, Kotomine Kirei,” Tokiomi says. “Now, I can finish preparing for the final battle of this war.”

_No,_ Kirei thinks, smiling placidly at Tokiomi. _Not here. I have to bring him back to the church._ Initially, he thinks that he could just ask Tokiomi to come back with him for a short while, say something along the lines of, _I’ve also prepared a gift for you, back at Fuyuki Church._ Also not a lie; his gift to Tokiomi is Matou Kariya, an unhinged dead man walking, with the chains of a wild Berserker clasped in his hand. Could there be any better gift?

But Kirei is already seeing flaws in this idea. If he says he has a gift for Tokiomi back at the church, he will ask, _whyever did you not bring it with you?_ And Kirei will have no answer, because yes, he should have brought it. Kirei is not the forgetful type, and for all of his gross misunderstanding of him, Tokiomi knows at least that much.

_Then how,_ Kirei tilts the dagger in his hands, staring at the reflection of his own eyes. _The only other way is… yes._

“Oh my, look at the time.” Tokiomi peers over Kirei’s shoulder, moving to stand. He makes his way towards the door of his study, leaving himself wide open, a foolish show of trust. “I’m terribly sorry to have kept you this long. I hope I haven’t made you miss your flight.”

Kirei slides the handle of the dagger into his non-dominant hand and stands, as well. No, he won’t kill him here. And he won’t try to convince him to come back to the church with him; he’s simply too cautious, especially this late in the game. If he’s going to bring Tokiomi back to the church, it will need to be quick and quiet.

“No,” Kirei says, a step behind him. He lifts his right hand, muscles tightening in his forearm, hand tensing. “You needn’t worry about that… my Master.”

Though the knife is heavy in his left hand, Kirei directs a hard, decisive chop to the back of Tokiomi’s neck. Tokiomi lets out a sharp, startled cry, before his legs give out underneath him. Kirei is quick to catch him before he falls forward, holding his teacher up with ease.

“You see,” Kirei bends to Tokiomi’s ear, knowing full well that he can’t hear him. “I never got around to buying that ticket.”

Kirei checks Tokiomi’s pulse, shifting the dagger into his armpit to free his hand. _Good,_ Kirei thinks. _It would be_ _so very_ _dull, if I killed him on accident._

“Aren’t you bold all of a sudden.”

A shroud of golden dust twinkles in Kirei’s peripherals, along with a familiar build. “He had a Servant dematerialized in the very same room,” he says, removing the dagger from his armpit and straightening up to face Archer. Tokiomi sags in his grip, but Kirei pays him no mind; the blow he landed will keep him out for a while yet. “It’s no wonder his guard was down.”

“Is that so,” Gilgamesh bends to look Tokiomi in the face, sneering. “Quite foolish of him to lower his guard in the face of such a traitorous man, then.”

Kirei almost laughs. “He, much like my father, failed to understand me to the last. That he is now in such danger… is his own fault.”

Gilgamesh shifts his eyes back up to Kirei, staring straight at him with a gaze sharp enough to cut, pupils thin slits befitting a beast. And then he laughs, shoulders shaking as he just about doubles over. Were Kirei still doubting himself, he may have found it disturbing otherwise—but no. Now, he can’t help the strain of his own smile.

“Why, Kirei!” Gilgamesh bellows, wiping a tear from his eye. “You’re learning how to _jest,_ of all things! To think you would catch on so quickly!”

_I’ve you to thank for being such an influence upon me,_ Kirei thinks to say, but he holds his tongue. There will be plenty of time for banter once they return to the church—to Kariya, who Kirei is certain must be rather anxious for their arrival.

 

* * *

 

Kariya stands, feeling his veins clench at the sight of that aggravatingly familiar red suit. He feels himself calm, slightly, seeing Kirei toting him around like a ragdoll, but it isn’t much.

“Many apologies for keeping you waiting,” Kirei says, the sound of Tokiomi’s feet dragging echoing off the church walls. Though Kariya can hardly hear it over the sound of blood rushing through his ears. “Traffic, of all things. The sun has hardly even risen…”

Instead of answering him, Kariya steps down off the altar, walking down the aisle. Kirei reaches the midpoint and stops, waiting for Kariya to meet him before he simply drops Tokiomi to the floor, face-first. With how heavily he hits the floor, Kariya worries that he’s already dead. Kirei must see this in his eyes, for he speaks up, “He is still alive. Merely unconscious.”

“Good,” Kariya says. His voice is shaky, low. He isn’t looking at Kirei at all; no, his eyes have been glued to Tokiomi the moment those doors opened. “That’s fine. Good.”

Silence stretches between them. And even though he isn’t looking at him, Kariya swears he sees Kirei flinch, though he isn’t sure why. He doesn’t care.

Kirei takes a step back, turning on his heel. “I’ll leave you to it.”

“Okay.”

His feet leave Kariya’s line of sight, and distantly, he can hear the church doors slamming shut. Taking an unsteady breath, Kariya takes a knee, grabbing Tokiomi’s shoulder and turning his body over, laying him out on his back. Once he’s situated, Kariya swings his leg over Tokiomi’s waist, straddling his body and staring down at him. Tohsaka Tokiomi, patriarch of the Tohsaka clan, father of Tohsaka Rin and Tohsaka Sakura, husband to Zenjou Aoi—

_It’s Tohsaka Aoi,_ his logic reminds him. It does little but infuriate Kariya further.

“Bet you thought you killed me, Tokiomi.” Kariya starts talking. “You were wrong. Dead wrong, even. I’ll never fucking die at _your_ hands, you inhuman bastard. Never, never, _never.”_

Of all the times, Kariya’s memory starts to kick in right then—nothing about Aoi, but instead about the man before him. The first time he’d met Tokiomi… just how long ago was that? He had met him before Aoi, he knows that much. He’d known them both for most of his adolescence, but Tokiomi had entered the picture before Aoi.

Though the Three Founding Families were hardly what one would call close, the connection the Matous had with the Tohsakas was stronger than their relations with the Einzberns. Kariya had met Tokiomi as a young boy—funny enough, it was Byakuya who had introduced them, though he hardly cared what Kariya did at the time. It was a thing of happenstance; Kariya just so happened to be in Byakuya’s care the day they crossed paths with Tokiomi.

Byakuya had taken Kariya to the park, mostly to get him out of his hair while he faffed around with some girls he’d called on his way over. That was normal. Kariya was almost always alone on days like this. He’d been sitting at a picnic table, writing in his notebook when he was approached by Tokiomi.

“ _Hello,”_ he’d said, sitting across the table from him. He was a year or so older than him, but he didn’t seem like much of a child. He spoke in a refined manner, with big words that Kariya thought only _he_ knew. _“You’re Matou Kariya, aren’t you?”_

Kariya remembers feeling apprehensive and anxious. _“Yes,”_ he’d replied. _“If you’re looking for Byakuya, he’s…”_

“ _Oh no, I am not,”_ Tokiomi smiled. It was soft, almost sweet. _“I want to talk to you. I am Tohsaka Tokiomi—we met only once, when we were infants. I suppose I’m rather strange, remembering something like that… but I’ve been meaning to talk to you for a while.”_

Kariya can practically feel himself fidgeting, like he had done back then. _“Really…?”_

“ _Oh yes,”_ Tokiomi nodded emphatically. _“You’re the one taking up the Matou family magic, aren’t you?”_

“ _Um… yes,”_ Kariya picked at the corner of his notebook, not quite feeling confident enough to meet Tokiomi’s eyes. _“I’m still… learning the basics… but grandfather tells me that I’m a fast learner. I should be moving up in my studies soon…”_

Tokiomi had reached out, then, clasping his hand over Kariya’s. _“If you need help with the basics, I can do that! We could learn together, and then we could both become great mages!”_

Blinking, Kariya shakes his head, swiping his right hand over his face. He’s not a kid anymore, he’s not that naive, he’s _not_ stupid enough to think that Tokiomi actually wanted to be his friend. No. No, no, _no,_ he just wanted a rival, someone to square off against, someone to _fight_ for the right to reach the Root or whatever the fuck it was.

“You piece of shit,” Kariya mutters. He can get as angry as he likes, but even recalling those times for a brief moment, thinking about how it felt back then—how Tokiomi, for a split second, seemed like someone that could care about him, someone that he could confide in, before he’d met Aoi—it makes him shake. Recalling that pathetic, lonely boy that he was— _still is—_ and thinking about how now the lonely kid in the Matou house is Sakura, how history’s fucking _repeating_ itself…

“You could’ve fucking stopped it,” Kariya pulls his hand away from his face, looking back down at Tokiomi’s slackened features. Grabbing his left arm, he presses his useless hand into Tokiomi’s neck, willing himself to use whatever remains in his nervous system to clench. He sets his good hand over his left, bearing down on him. “You could’ve been a fucking good person and kept your daughters away from that monster, that _vampire,_ but you just handed her off like it’s no big fucking deal!”

Kariya tightens his grip, bearing all of his weight down on Tokiomi’s neck, feeling some depraved, disgusting delight at how Tokiomi starts sputtering. Spittle starts rising from Tokiomi’s lips, his mouth forming around slurred words—he’s conscious, Kariya realizes, and he puts more of his weight into strangling him.

“You bastard,” Kariya sinks his nails into the skin of Tokiomi’s neck. Tokiomi is sluggish beneath him, trying to work up the strength to fight back. The damage done by Kirei’s blow to his head must have done quite a number on him—but Kariya isn’t thinking about that. “You putrid, awful, sick fucking _bastard!”_

Tokiomi mouths Kariya’s name.

Gasping loudly, Kariya throws himself off of Tokiomi, stumbling backward. Without stopping to think, Kariya calls on his command seals, summoning Berserker. _Kill him, crush him, don’t make me fucking look at his face anymore, kill him, do it, Berserker! FUCKING KILL HIM!_

In a dark shroud, it appears. A gurgled roar pierces the air as Berserker slams his fists down on Tokiomi’s head, the sound of his skull crunching beneath the force making Kariya’s stomach turn. Berserker doesn’t stop at that, doesn’t stop even when Tokiomi’s face is just a mangled mess of blood and flesh and muscle.

Kariya thinks of that spring day as Tokiomi’s blood sprays on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> check me out on tumblr @ diokyouran!


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